


Mithridatism

by olivemeister



Category: Hunter X Hunter, Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Character Death, Cunnilingus, Dissociation, Disturbing Themes, Dream Sex, Graphic Description, Menstruation, Nightmares, Other, Panic Attacks, Tokyo Ghoul AU, Trans Male Character, Violence, Vomiting, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-25 05:00:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 54
Words: 92,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3797662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olivemeister/pseuds/olivemeister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tokyo Ghoul AU featuring the HxH cast.</p><p>There were people who didn't belong in the world of ghouls. People who should have been kept as far away from that horrific universe as possible.</p><p>They weren't.</p><p>Discontinued.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the TG universe, but with only a tenuous link to the canon characters and storyline. Some plot elements remain, such as the creation of the Quinx, but the details behind them differ from in canon. It'll be elaborated on within the fic itself!

Gon's eyes were glued to the TV, the way they tended to be after they'd eaten breakfast together. It made Killua want to kick him over, so he'd fall on his side. “Rots your brain,” he said, not serious at all. But what was on the screen wasn't entertainment.

Gon was watching the news.

Before Killua got the chance to express his shock over the development, his eyes flicked to the ticker tape running at the bottom of the screen. It made his heart drop in his chest, and he swallowed painfully. The taste of toothpaste was too strong in his mouth still, and it was all that was there after brushing his teeth. He kept a toothbrush at Gon's house; he kept toothbrushes everywhere, really.

_Seven dead in police confrontation with unidentified male ghoul. Anyone with information concerning a male ghoul wearing a harlequin mask is urged to consult the CCG._

His fingers twitched before curling into fists.

“Another ghoul attack.” It wasn't uncommon now, he knew. For past few weeks, he'd been hearing about it. The fourth ward had been so quiet, before. That's why he'd chosen the area in the first place, when it came to school and his apartment. It wasn't the same as the first ward, but that was too expensive a place to live.

Not looking at him, Gon nodded, humming in confirmation. His elbows were resting on the table he sat at, his chin propped up on his hands. Killua didn't bother looking at his expression – it wouldn't tell him anything about what the other boy was thinking. “The district's gotten busy, huh Killua. What is this, the... third time this month? They found him eating, I think... someone called about a disturbance, and they thought it was a wild animal at first. He killed them all.”

Killua tugged a chair out from under the table with his foot. “You could say it _was_ a wild animal,” he said scornfully. “Is Mito-san gonna be home tonight, or is she working late?”

“Ah, don't say that, Killua.” Gon's foot tapped against his leg, almost like he was scolding. Killua scowled, shoving his hands in his pockets. There was a candy wrapper there, and he tugged it out with a frown. Melted chocolate was surely staining his pants. It'd be a pain to wash out, but it wouldn't be the first time he'd had to clean food off his clothes. “They're just people, and they wanna live just like anyone else. Killua, did you leave chocolate in your pockets again? You should eat less of it.”

“Gon, they're ghouls.” Even the word tasted bad in his mouth. Thinking about it was awful – something so close to a human being, but twisted and wrong. Eating human flesh, ripping into it raw and dripping. Long pork, they called it. That was a laugh.

Gon's frown was growing wider, and it made Killua nervous. It always sucked when Gon didn't want to let go of a topic, and this was one Killua didn't want to focus on. “Killua's so mean. Hey, if I was a ghoul, what would you do?”

Snorting, Killua leaned across the table to flick Gon's forehead. “You're not a ghoul, Gon. Your dad's an investigator, for fuck's sake. And don't try to play the 'but I could have been adopted' thing again, you look just like him. You're not a ghoul.”

“Yeah. But if I was, I think, if you said something like that it'd make me really sad.”

Shaking his head, Killua stood up again. “Ghouls don't get sad. Ghouls don't feel anything, not really.” That's what his parents had always told him. “We're gonna be late for class if you don't get your butt in gear. And, you never answered my question.”

Gon scooted his chair back loudly, pursing his lips in thought. “When did you ask me a question?”

“Stupid. Mi-to-sa-n. Is she working late or not?” Killua crouched down to put his shoes on again; he'd dutifully taken them off as always when he stopped by in the morning. It was part of their semi-regular routine, all dependent on how early Killua woke up. Go to Gon's house, eat breakfast, clean up afterward, brush teeth, go to class.

Some days he skipped the breakfast part, but never the Gon part. If he didn't come to get the other boy, he'd get wrapped up in something and end up late.

“Umm... tonight, Mito-san is...” Gon's finger tapped against his cheek as he pulled his bag from the back of his chair, slinging it over his shoulder. “What was it, again? Pork chops tonight, I think. She'll be home on time.”

Pork. Killua bared his teeth in a scowl. He hated pork. “Cool. I might have to go early, though. My dad wants me to call tonight, and it's gonna be a pain in the ass. Mom's gonna cry and cry, 'When will my baby come home?' Never.”

Gon nodded, tapping the tips of his shoes against the floor. “Well, if it's easier, you don't have to stop by at all beforehand? I know talking to your parents makes you mad. If you want to spend the night, Mito-san won't mind.”

“Mm.”

For whatever reason, Killua felt better when the door closed behind them. When he put his hands in his pockets again, though, it just reminded him of the melted chocolate there. Wrinkling his nose, he kicked at the sidewalk to send a pebble skidding into the road. “Balls.”

“You eat too much candy,” Gon said in a carefree voice, grinning at Killua. It made him want to shove his chocolate-smeared fingers in Gon's face until his cheeks were stained brown. Instead, he wiped them on the outside of his pants, licking his thumb to get the rest of it off. “We're gonna have to go to your apartment, aren't we.”

“Yeah,” Killua admitted, staring up at the sky as he walked. The sun hurt his eyes a little, and he squinted in the light. “I'm not gonna hang around all day with chocolate pants.”

“You'd get in trouble anyway, I think.”

“Actually,” he said quickly, snapping his fingers at Gon before spinning on one heel. “You go on ahead, okay? I'll just run and meet up with you again.”

“I'm not gonna wait at the train station if you don't get there in time!” Gon shouted, and Killua waved a hand back at him. It wasn't like he was ever late for anything unless he wanted to be, and they both knew it. Gon would wait for him anyway, despite what he said. If they were late for class, it would be together.

He ran the whole way, though, his footsteps sounding loud against the pavement. Killua swore as he dropped his keys, swinging his hand down just too late to catch them. It almost made him lose his balance, but he leaned against the railing of the stairs that led up to the next level of apartments. His was on the second floor, so he needed to climb them anyway.

Standing outside the door to the apartment, Killua's nostrils flared and filled with the harsh scent of iron. His fingers curled tightly around the keys, and he made himself unlock the door and turn the knob. It was too early in the day for something disgusting and awful to happen to him.

He knew he should walk away and just deal with his chocolate pants.

Killua opened the door instead.

“Oh? Hello~ Killua-kun.”

 

Killua slammed the door again shut, turned around, and walked away.

 

Leaning against the door, Killua gritted his teeth at the sound of footsteps on the other side. Even if he locked the door it wouldn't matter, since he was on the outside. Affixing a deadpan scowl on his face, he let the door swing back open.

He didn't need to look to know who was lurking in his hall. The smell of blood gave it away from the start, after all. Killua gagged a little; whether it was that or the always-disturbing smirk on Hisoka's face, he couldn't say. He didn't know how the man had gotten in this time – his last visit had prompted Killua to put more locks on the windows, but it was really an empty gesture. “Your brother asked me to stop by and check on you, and I agreed. After all, it's been so long since we chatted. But I must admit I wasn't expecting you back so soon. It's a shame I couldn-”

“Did you have to bring your... _food_ , here with you?” Despite his attempts to calm it, Killua could feel his heart rate starting to climb. He hated when this happened; coming home to a disgusting clown ghoul was bad enough without the presence of a body. Clenching his jaw hard, he remembered what he'd come back for. He didn't want to change his clothes in front of Hisoka. The man was bad enough the way he was; the last thing Killua wanted was to expose himself to possible attack. “Leave. Message delivered. You can tell Illu-nii the same thing as always – It doesn't matter how many spooky abominations he tries to throw at me, I'm not gonna go back and live with him again.”

“He'll be so disappointed.” Hisoka ran a finger over his upturned lips, grinning.

It wasn't his finger.

Killua looked away as the man bit down, but he couldn't block out the crunch of bone.

If he was going to be like this again, he'd have to take his chances with baring his ass to a ghoul. Hopefully the inexplicable relationship Hisoka had with his brother would keep him from attempting anything. “I don't care,” Killua said plainly, before throwing his belt on the ground. It was snatched out of the air immediately by a squirming organ, and Killua's face twisted in disgust when Hisoka brought it to his nose and mouth, taking a deep and audible breath. “You're disgusting and I hate you.”

“Please, go on.”

“I'll let you keep the belt if you leave. Jerk off with it for all I care. I don't want it now that you've touched it.” Turning away pointedly, Killua slammed his bedroom door behind him. The low, shuddering moan that he heard only made his urge to vomit stronger. He kicked his shoes off as violently as he could. “ _Don't jerk off with it in my apartment._ ”

“Killua-kun, how horrible. Do you really think so poorly of me?” He tried to drown out the sound of Hisoka's voice as he dropped his pants, tossing them against the ground hard enough to make a loud _thwump_. In fact, he made as much noise as possible in his quest for new clothes. “Oh, my. Are you undressing in there? I thought the belt was the only gift you were giving me. I _never_ expected you to offer yourself.”

“Get lost!” Killua howled, kicking the door hard. The effect of it was slightly lost since he was standing in his underwear and socked feet. “If you were a human being you'd be in jail for life just for this. Breaking and entering, harassment of a minor, oh, and also, _the dead body_. I should have known you'd be here, goddammit. They were talking about you on the ne- ugh, don't tell me that's a cop you're eating. You didn't have to kill so many!”

There was a pause, followed by a loud slurping noise. Killua shuddered, yanking his clean pants on. “Now, now. I have to eat like anyone else, and what's dinner without a show?”

“I'd tell you to eat a dick, but you really would.” He shoved his feet back in his shoes, ignoring the way it bent the backs of them down. The more time he spent in Hisoka's presence, the more the smell of the blood was getting to him. Killua didn't know what Illumi hoped to achieve by sending Hisoka all the time. It wasn't like he'd run back into his brother's arms because of a ghoul.

“I'm hurt.” He didn't look at the man's face when he opened the door again, stomping past him and his gruesome meal.

“No you aren't. Clean up after yourself when you leave. If I come home to bloodstains I'm gonna be pissed.”

“Hmm,” Hisoka said, drawing out the syllables. Killua ignored him pointedly, throwing the front door open again. Before he could slam it and force himself to forget what was going on inside, Hisoka's next words slid out to creep down his spine. “Say hello to Gon for me.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Say hello to Gon for me.”

Killua reached forward, and pulled the door back shut, drowning the room in darkness again. He locked it silently, and turned to face Hisoka. There was no helping his expression, twisted with anger and fear. It made Hisoka smirk, his tongue slipping out between his bloodstained lips to lick at them.

“No,” Killua said quietly, almost a growl. “Leave him out of this.”

“That's such a nice expression,” Hisoka moaned, and Killua made his clenched fingers uncurl. It was just what he wanted, after all, and he couldn't give the monster in his home the satisfaction. Hisoka was that kind of ghoul – the kind that played with people, dragging out their emotions and using them like blades, cutting off the things he didn't want and relishing the end result. “It's _so_ nice to see you angry again, Killua-kun.”

“You're unreal,” Killua whispered, planting his feet squarely. His shoulders rose, along with the hair on the back of his neck. “You and Illu-nii, you're both...”

“We're exactly how we were born.” His voice was almost a sing-song. “And you're just the same. It's so unbecoming of you, living your life the way you do.” There was a pause as Hisoka sucked another finger into his mouth, biting it off and chewing. “I do so love that about you.”

“Does he know? About Gon.” Killua made himself ask the question, his teeth gritting. He'd be late, and Gon would wait for him. There was no way he could leave now, not without having some idea of what Hisoka would do.

“Illumi is so very lovely, especially when he's frustrated.” Hisoka stood, holding up what remained of the body he'd been carelessly devouring. Killua stared at it for a moment in sick fascination. He could still make out some of the features of the man that corpse had once been. He swallowed hard around his clenched teeth. “And it would frustrate him to know about your little friend, but that would spoil my fun, now wouldn't it? Gon-kun is still alive, isn't he? And I'd prefer if he stayed that way.”

The tension in Killua's shoulders loosened, but not enough to let them drop again. Hisoka showing interest in someone was never good, but it was particularly awful because it was Gon. He wasn't so vain as to assume Hisoka would do something solely to torment him – Illumi was a much more appetizing target for the man, after all, and to harass Illumi all Hisoka would need to do was knock him unconscious and play keep-away with his older brother as long as possible.

Illumi loved him, after all. Even if the thought made him sick.

“What are you planning?”

“I couldn't possibly tell you that so easily.”

“Of course not,” Killua grumbled, letting his fingers tap against the palms of his hands. “That would be too sane for you. What do you want from me?”

“From you? You know that already, don't you, Killua-kun.” The sight of Hisoka's kagune emerging from his lower back made Killua's heart start to pound again. No matter how many times he saw it – pink and shiny, like it was coated in the same slime as Hisoka's heart – it made him nervous. One, two, three tendrils, twisting together almost lovingly as they extended.

Bikaku.

Coccyx.

His mind ran over it all at once, the rhyme he'd learned as a child – _ukaku is fast but frail, strong koukaku is slow. Rinkaku will bend and break, from bikaku below_. Sing it twice, and they all lined up. Each type of kagune, defeated by the one that followed. Shoulders, shoulder blade, waist, tailbone.

The thought made his back itch.

For a long moment, he simply watched Hisoka, watched the way his kagune writhed and twirled together. In a way, it was beautiful, the way they reached for him almost like fingers. Mostly, though, it was horrific. Worse were the words that dripped from that mouth, soaked with blood. “Won't you play with me?”

Backing up slowly, Killua shook his head. His back hit the door, and suddenly the appendages shot back, away from him. Hisoka's laugh was enough to make his blood boil. He'd been so close to trying to flee, and it was infuriating. “Leave.”

“No fun at all.” There was almost a pout on the man's face, and it would have looked comically out of place if not for how much it highlighted what he was facing. Hisoka was deadly intelligent, regular deadly, and operating on a completely different, bizarre moral compass. Sometimes it was easy to forget how much of a threat he was, easy to get distracted by the clownish face paint and the flashy outfits.

Everything smelled like blood.

“Get out of my apartment, Hisoka.”

“Yes, yes. There's no pleasure to be had from plucking unripened fruits, after all. But, Killua-kun... I'll stop by again sometime.”

Killua stood in the empty apartment for a long time, just staring at the spot on the floor that the body had been in. There was nothing in his mind, nothing resembling a coherent thought. His phone buzzed in his bag, and it startled him so badly that the door thumped and scraped as his body hit it.

“Fuck,” he whispered into the silence, his fingers shaking pitifully as he reached for it. It took two tries to unlatch the bag and open it, and when he flipped the phone open it happily displayed that he had a new text from Gon.

 _Killua's late,_ it said. Seconds later, another one came, too quickly for him to respond. _Are you okay???_

Slowly, Killua sat down on the cold tile in front of the doorway and began to type out a message. _On my way right now. Saw someone I know, got caught up._ _Sorry._

The best lies had some truth to them, after all.

If he ran as fast as he could, he could make it in time for the train. But that was something Killua knew he couldn't do.

He made it to the station only a few minutes too late, out of breath and flushed in the face. Gon was perched on a bench, still there as expected. He was talking to someone, a young man who looked like he could only be a few years older than them. Next to them, a much taller man leaned against a wall, scowling.

“Yo, Gon.” His voice was a little weak, and he took in another lungful of air before grinning at the other boy. “Are you making friends without me?”

Gon kicked his legs a little before jumping to his feet. “I couldn't help it! You were so late, I didn't have anything to do.”

“I thought you said you weren't going to wait for me,” Killua said teasingly, before sliding his hands in his pockets. “Ahhh. That's better. No chocolate. So. Who are you?”

The young man who'd been sitting next to Gon snorted a little, resting his hand on his chin. Killua wasn't sure whether or not he was laughing because he was amused.

“This is Kurapika!” Gon, on the other hand, was all smiles. “Kurapika, Leorio, this is my friend Killua. He's the one I was waiting for.”

“Is that so?” Kurapika said quietly. Something about his voice was almost lilting. Killua thought it was pleasant in a way, but with an undertone of danger. Looking at him made Killua's skin crawl.

“Making your friend wait, huh?” The other man had to be Leorio, then. He checked his watch, raising his eyebrows a little. “Sure hope your school is the one close by, or you're never gonna make it.”

“You're certainly one to talk.” Kurapika leaned forward a little, his eyes flickering over to Leorio. It made the man laugh nervously, and he put his hands on his hips as if he had nothing else to do with them. Killua got a feeling of tension between them. “If not for you, I'd have been at headquarters already.”

“Tch.”

Headquarters. That meant... “Hey,” Killua said abruptly, his eyes widening. His fingers curled into fists and he let them rise to his chest, knowing how excited it made him look. Standing in front of him were two people who could be ghoul exterminators. “Are you guys with the CCG?”

Leorio's previous annoyed expression suddenly gained a degree of smug pride. By contrast, Kurapika merely laced his fingers together, his eyes closed. “Yeah, you could say that,” Leorio said, bringing a finger up to scratch his cheek.

It seemed to excite Gon too, and he grinned. “You know the Quinx program, right Killua? They're members! I think it's really neat, the whole thing. It's sort of like a bridge between species. Makes you think, maybe, we could co-exist. Maybe even within our lifetime!”

Kurapika's intertwined fingers tightened, but Gon didn't seem to notice. “That's a nice thought,” he said coolly, and Killua wondered if he'd imagined the reaction. Either that, or Kurapika was remarkably good at maintaining control. That was probably something to be expected from doves, though.

Quinx. The idea gave him cold chills. They were terrifying to think of; humans implanted with kagune. The benefits of a ghoul's predatory weapons, without the... restricted... diet that came with the species. They were weaker than ghouls, of course, due to the RC suppressants that surrounded the transplanted organ, but compared to a human being...

“Is it true you can only eat raw meat?” Killua blurted out, trying to suppress the genuine shock and curiosity on his face. He wasn't sure where he'd heard about that – Hisoka, probably, but Hisoka loved to exaggerate for dramatic flair.

“We're only applicants at this stage,” Kurapika murmured. Killua got the distinct feeling that he was disappointed by that fact. “Though both of us have been approved for the process. That said, the rumors about Quinx members having dietary restrictions as a result of the surgery are just that. There is no basis in fact. It's merely propaganda.”

Abruptly, it occurred to Killua what it was about Kurapika that made him uncomfortable. He couldn't bring himself to say the words, though. Kurapika, he suddenly knew, wasn't hunting ghouls to protect the human race from their shadowy predators.

He was after revenge.

Killua hooked his thumbs in his pockets, looking out across the train tracks. On the other side of the platform, he could see dozens of people, all going about their day. A hassled-looking office worker, muttering into his phone. A little girl holding her mother's hand, one chubby fist stuffed into her mouth. A kid who couldn't have been more than two years younger than he was, barely a teenager, nervously shifting his weight. Tardy for class, just like them.

So many people – so many people who might meet their end that night by a starving animal. He wished he'd never heard the word “ghoul”.

“I don't think it really matters what you eat, I guess,” Killua said, letting his gaze drift up to the sky. “As long as you're killing ghouls, isn't that all anybody needs to know? Saving people.”

Something about Gon seemed smaller as he said those words. Killua could feel the other boy's eyes on him, but he kept his own face tilted up. He remembered all the times he'd done it before. Raising his face to the sky made it hard for tears to fall down his face. In its own way, though, the action revealed it anyway.

The train rolled in slowly, and none of them said a word.

 


	3. Chapter 3

“Do, haa, you think,” Gon said abruptly, not moving from his position flat on his back in the dirt, “That this was... a bad idea?”

Killua took a few deep breaths, a hand pressed against his chest as he panted. It took him a minute to get his mouth working again. “You mean, haa, running up a mountain, could be a bad idea? Like, haa, I told you... from the start? You think it could be possible?”

“Um.” It was clear that Gon hadn't caught his breath yet, and Killua restrained himself from verbally ripping into him some more. The boy rolled over on his side, sending a cloud of dust up from the trail.

They'd planned to go mountain climbing for weeks without any specific date in mind, but Gon had texted him that morning to gleefully inform him that he needed to get dressed and come over, because they were going to the Okutama mountains. Mito had waved them off with only a little annoyed worry. She knew that despite Gon's danger-seeking behavior, Killua would be around to contain him no matter what he did. The level of trust was something Killua wasn't sure he deserved.

They'd taken the Yamanote line out to Ikebukuro station to transfer, bright and early in the morning. Too early for Killua's tastes, but he'd slept on the train. An hour wasn't really a long time, especially not with how Gon wouldn't stay still to serve as a pillow. His bag certainly wasn't an option, stuffed with water bottles and snacks. It seemed like every time he finally got comfortable, it was time to switch lines.

But they'd made it eventually, Gon bundling him into the taxi for the last stretch of the lazy journey. It had taken about twenty minutes of arguing before Gon acceded to Killua's demand that they “not climb fucking Mt. Kumotori, what are you, an idiot? That's way too tall. Besides, you promised Mito-san you wouldn't overdo it.” But it hadn't really quelled Gon's desire to run rampant in the wilderness, and suddenly there had been a race at hand.

Killua knew he could have left Gon behind easily, but it wasn't as if he had the stamina to keep that up. Their feet pounded along the trail, the sound drowned out by Gon laughing the whole way. If it were anyone else, Killua remembered thinking, he would have pushed them down the side of the mountain to tumble down to the base again.

It felt good to be out of Tokyo, though. Sometimes the cities seemed too busy, clogged with people and cars. Sitting in the dirt with Gon on that beaten trail was a relief, and he took deep lungfuls of the air there. If they went much further up, that air would start to thin, and maybe he'd get to see Gon do something even stupider than normal. It was probably better if they didn't stray that far up, though.

“If we'd done Kumotori-san,” Gon said, sitting up to look at Killua, “We could have stayed in one of the overnight huts. Wouldn't that have been cool? Spending a night in the mountains.”

“With you? Tch. You'd yank me awake at three in the morning to look at bugs.” Killua leaned against his knee, hugging it to his chest. Gon grinned, and Killua couldn't help but smile back. He wasn't sure how high they'd climbed already; the last marker he'd seen was for 500 meters. “Besides, we wouldn't even make it to the summit before nightfall if it was Kumatori-san, you know? Unless you planned on running the whole way, and you'd _probably_ die.”

“But only probably!” It seemed to only spur Gon on, and he climbed to his feet, patting dust off his jeans. Killua snorted, reaching over to throw Gon his bag. It was heavy, and he scowled immediately. Would it be too out of character for Gon to legitimately stuff his backpack with rocks for a greater challenge? But he didn't comment on it.

“Give me a fucking break. If you died in the mountains, what would I tell Mito-san? I couldn't just drag your body down with me.” He could have, if he took breaks. That was a stupid thing to think about, though. It was annoying enough to try and carry Gon when he fell asleep, or the time he'd twisted his ankle from climbing a rock wall. “Hey, hold up. I wanna get a drink, and if I start walking again immediately I'll just throw it all up and that's a goddamn waste.”

The last thing he wanted to do was throw up if he could avoid it. Gon hummed a little, nodding. He didn't move while Killua fished a water bottle out of his bag and screwed the cap off. The water was almost lukewarm, but it tasted fine anyway.

“That's weird to think about,” Gon said contemplatively, pulling his backpack back on. Ignoring him, Killua took a long drink of water. Whatever it was that Gon was going to say would be said whether he was really listening or not. “You hear stories about it all the time, though. Getting stranded on mountains during blizzards, right? And the people with them eat the bodies when they die. They just don't have anything else.”

Killua paused with the water bottle pressed to his lips, frowning. He was suddenly glad it was spring and not winter. Not that Mito would have let Gon roam in the mountains in the dead of winter; she was more responsible than that. And Gon respected his mother enough to accept when she said no, unlike Killua and his own parents. “Yeah? You gonna make this into a lesson about how humans and ghouls aren't so different?”

“Nah.” Gon stretched to touch his toes before straightening again. He scratched his cheek, looking at Killua. Something about his expression was weirdly sincere. “If I died in the mountains, you should eat me, okay?”

Water sprayed out of Killua's mouth, and he frantically wiped at his nose and lips. It seemed to almost offend Gon, who curled his hands into fists to hold in front of his chest.

“I'm serious! If I died, you should! Then you wouldn't have to carry my body, too.”

“You're not gonna die,” Killua coughed out, throwing the cap of his water bottle at Gon. It hit his cheek and bounced off, rolling away. “Besides, you think I'd eat my best friend? What do you think I am?”

“Well,” Gon started, before putting his hands on his hips. “Maybe it's selfish, but I think I would want you to! Because, if that happened, part of me would be with Killua forever. No matter where you go, right?”

Killua got to his feet, taking another pull of his water bottle. He didn't know where the lid had gone, and he realized he shouldn't have thrown it. It was too late to reflect on that, though. The thought of Gon dying was scary, but the thought of having to eat his corpse was scarier. “You're creepy, you know?”

“Hehe.”

“Anyway, you wanna go then? So you don't die, and I don't make your mom hate me by eating her precious baby boy's gross creepy body.” Killua's eyes flicked across the ground, hunting for the cap. It was bright blue, so there was no reason for it to be as hard to find as it was. He shouldn't have been surprised when Gon threw it back at him, letting it thump against his chest weakly. It did surprise him, though, and he almost tripped over his own feet in an attempt to dodge. Gon laughed as he scrambled to catch it before it hit the ground again.

“I thought you'd catch it right away,” he said, watching Killua wipe it off on his shirt before he screwed it back on the bottle. For a moment, Gon's face twisted up in thought. “You're sort of right, I guess? I don't think Mito-san would ever hate you, but she'd be really sad. For both of us, probably. I guess I should probably just try really hard not to die then.”

“No shit? That'd be better for all of us, I think. But more importantly, you should probably text her before we lose reception,” Killua replied, shoving the bottle back in his bag. It made a bag of chips fall out, and Gon gaped at him. The incredulous expression quickly was replaced by a grumpy frown. “What? I can't bring potato chips?”

“Out of all the things you could have brought? When you climb mountains it should be stuff like jerky and fruit.” Gon almost sounded like Mito when he was scolding, and Killua rolled his eyes while putting his bag back in order. He was right, though. Everything in Killua's bag was the nutritional equivalent of trash.

“I take it back,” Killua said, swinging the bag back into place. “I'll eat you, if it means you'll shut up.”

Neither of those things would happen, he knew.

They ate later that evening, after making their way back to the bottom of the mountain. He peeled an apple from Gon's bag, cutting it up carefully. Every time Gon opened his mouth like a baby bird, a slice was unceremoniously shoved between his teeth. He really was like a little kid in some ways. Killua didn't think he minded, despite what he said. The fact that Gon relied on him for little things like that said something about trust, he thought.

Gon fell asleep on his shoulder on the train home, smelling like sweat and dirt and life. Killua thought it might be what happiness smelled like.

He thought that at first, before Gon started to drool on him. Then it just smelled like spit.

 


	4. Chapter 4

“Who are you texting?” Killua leaned across his desk, his cheek pressed against his arm to let his fingers slide through his hair. “You've been typing for like, twenty minutes.”

Gon's tongue poked out from between his lips, and he paused in tapping out whatever he was writing. The look of concentration on his face was almost comical. “Zushi. He's gonna get his black belt soon, and he's nervous about it. I'm not sure what I wanna say, but I wanna reassure him I guess?”

For a moment, Killua didn't reply. Zushi was a grade lower than them, and despite his enthusiasm, the boy was nervous about seemingly everything. It was a poor trait for someone who wanted to become a ghoul investigator, his indecisiveness. Being wary was one thing, but being unable to act was another. He worked hard, though. Killua didn't dislike him.

He kicked at the leg of Gon's desk before reaching out to snag a rolled omelette from Gon's lunch. The low whine that came out of the other boy made him relent, and he held it out with his chopsticks tauntingly. Gon reached out with his own, and Killua yanked it up and away. “Do you want it? Go~n. Here, shake, and I'll give you a treat.”

“I'm not a dog, Killua,” Gon said stubbornly, before grabbing his wrist and pulling it over so he could eat it from Killua's chopsticks. Someone else in the classroom snickered, but it stopped when Killua scowled. “Stop stealing my lunch. You should just bring more than bread, anyway! Mito-san would make you a lunch if you asked.”

“Nah,” Killua said, before grinning. “S'more fun to eat yours.”

“That doesn't make sense!” Gon wailed, carefully closing his lunchbox so that Killua couldn't sneak more out of it. The lid closed with a little snap, latching into place. “If Mito-san made you a lunch, it would be exactly the same as mine.”

“Stuuuupid,” Killua drawled, resting his chin on his hand. “It's not about the food, it's about taking it from you.”

“Killua's so mean.”

“Yeah.” He looked at the clock above the chalkboard before pushing his chair back. It was part of the routine. Lunch, bathroom break (“So I won't piss my pants during algebra”), and then find his homework from the night before to finish it. He didn't have to do that last part for once, since he'd finished the printout with Gon when the other boy asked him for help. “I gotta take a leak.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Gon wasn't even paying attention to him anymore, really, now that he was stashing the box in his bag. He seemed suddenly preoccupied with something. Killua snuck a look in it when he passed – notebooks, his textbook. An encyclopedia. He could make out the words _anatomy_ and _ghoul_ , and then he forced himself to look away and keep walking. There was no way he could reveal the way his stomach lurched.

Gon couldn't get involved. Not Gon.

Killua felt like he was going to throw up.

When he returned, he felt better about the whole thing. Killua could definitely figure out how to redirect Gon's interests, if that was what he needed to do to keep him safe. That was what he thought about as he sat down again.

“Hey, Killua?” Gon hadn't brought the book out, he noted dully. Or if he had, it had been put away already. Either way, the fact that it existed in the first place was a worrying sign. The idea of Gon stepping out into the world of ghouls terrified him.

“Yeah?” Killua kept that out of his voice, and was proud that he could. It was a stupid thing to be proud of, he knew, but he would take the little victories.

“Remember that time when we were late? I forgot about it, because I met Kurapika and Leorio, but you said you ran into someone you knew.” Gon's fingers curled around his pencil, tapping it against the notebook on his desk. It left little marks on the paper. Gon had drawn a little cat, Killua noted dully. The tail looked weird. Gon was a terrible artist. He wasn't sure if he was one to talk though. “Who was it?”

Hisoka's disgusting smiling face rose up into his mind again, and Killua forced it away.

The ghoul had left him a note after he'd left that night, signed with a star and a teardrop instead of a name. “Yum, yum,” it had said. He hated the way Hisoka wrote his name with little hearts after each letter. Killua was grateful that he hadn't seen him since. The reports in the news had stopped, too, confirming that the showy murders had been Hisoka's doing. Even though he'd already known the culprit, really, he was glad it had stopped.

“Killua?” It was only when Gon spoke again that he realized he hadn't answered. He swallowed as quietly as he could, running his tongue over his teeth. Hisoka knew about Gon, but that didn't mean Gon had to know about Hisoka. It was only a matter of time until Hisoka would move. But until then...

“Sorry, sorry. It was my brother's...” For a moment, he didn't know what to classify Hisoka as. 'Friend' was wrong – Illumi didn't have friends. But they weren't mere acquaintances either. It seemed like they had a relationship of convenience, at least on Illumi's end. Hisoka was more ambiguous. Frowning, he thought about it for a moment. It seemed to make Gon even more curious, which was the opposite of what he wanted. “Actually, I'm not sure what their relationship is. They went to school together, maybe? It's weird, I never thought about how they knew each other.”

“Huh.” Gon leaned back in his chair. “I thought you were going to say 'lover' or something.”

Killua snorted loudly, covering his mouth with his hands. The thought was an equal mixture of hilarious and disturbing. Hisoka was probably the kind of person who would seek it out, though. Killua briefly imagined Hisoka's bloody lips on Illumi's slim, pale hands and flinched with genuine disgust. “Gross, gross! Ugh, that's the last thing I wanna think about!”

“Hehe.” Gon stretched his arms out, lacing his fingers together. One of his joints popped quietly, and he rolled his shoulder with a little sigh of relief.

“Besides, my brother wouldn't ever have that kind of relationship with anyone. Actually...” He thought about Milluki as well, locked away in his room as he binged on food. Milluki never exerted any more effort than was necessary, and he almost never left the household. Kalluto was too young, and so was Alluka... Alluka. “None of my siblings are capable of dating, anyway. They're all either weirdos, or too young to be even _thinking_ about it. Though, I guess I'm there with them. Who would I date? You?”

Gon pouted a little, setting his pencil down. “What are you saying, Killua? You don't wanna date me?” Killua snorted in laughter, scooting his chair away as Gon scooted his closer. Gon put his hands up to his cheeks, beaming, as he let his elbows rest on Killua's desk. He pursed his lips together, a teasing threat. “Hey, Killua. You don't wanna date me? Killuaaaa. Hey.”

“You're so gross,” Killua snickered, pushing a hand against Gon's face to force him back. It didn't deter the other boy, who only doubled his efforts to plant a wet kiss on Killua's cheek. Killua shoved the web between his thumb and forefinger over Gon's mouth. “Gon, noooo! Don't take my cheek's first kiss so suddenly! I haven't had time to prepare myself emotionally!”

Gon licked the palm of his hand, making him yank it away with a howl. He wiped it on his shirt with a scowl, and all it did was make Gon laugh. Killua stuck his tongue out. “Killua's awful. Won't even let me kiss him.”

Killua paused before grinning deviously. He pressed a finger to his lips pointedly, lifting his eyebrows to make him look uncertain. “If you're gonna kiss me,” he said hesitantly, in the best falsetto he could muster, “I'd rather it... be here.”

Gon's laughter became more of a wheeze, and then the bell chimed to announce that class would resume. Gon's chair scraped against the floor as he pushed it back into place, and they grinned at each other for a moment, faces flushed from laughing.

Halfway through class, a little, folded paper landed on his desk, snuck in under his elbow.

“Killua – You wanna come over for dinner tonight? Mito-san is making stew.”

Gon had signed it with a little scribble of his face, as if Killua wouldn't know who it was from based solely on the handwriting and contents. Who else had a Mito-san to invite him to dinner?

The way Gon wrote his name was better, Killua decided. He scrawled out, “Sure” on the paper and folded it back up. It took a while to get his opportunity, and he took careful aim.

When he flicked the paper back over, it hit Gon squarely in the knuckle hard enough to hurt.

Gon was antsy after school, the way he was sometimes. Sitting in a classroom all day was a pain in the ass, even with the chance to run wild during P.E. Killua wondered if Gon had ever slowed down enough to walk as a child. He'd run every time if he could.

That was what they did, heavy footsteps running down to the river that wound its way behind the school. Gon tucked into a ball to roll down the hill, springing back to his feet when he reached the bottom and waving frantically to Killua. He shook his head and stuck his tongue out, skidding down himself without losing his balance. There was no point in getting grass stains on his pants. He set his bag down next to Gon's, making his way to the water.

“Killua, look, tadpoles!” They scattered away from Gon's finger as it dipped in the water, and he grinned at Killua. “They've got little leg buds already. How long do you think it'll be before they're frogs?”

Killua crouched down to look, and it was a mistake. He didn't have time to react to Gon's sudden malicious smirk before he was falling face-first into the river. It didn't mean he had to go in alone, though, and his fingers caught at Gon's shirt to yank him in as well. Howling in laughter, Gon's arms latched around his waist.

They rolled together to the bottom of the shallow water, sending fish flitting away and water splashing everywhere. On his back, it only came up to his ears enough to turn the sound of Gon's voice into a muffled, murky laugh. He didn't really mind it, even though his clothes were soaked through and the water was cold. The rocks that lined the bottom of the river were smooth against him.

“Killua,” Gon wailed, half a shriek, when Killua slapped a handful of mud against his cheek. “Mito-san's gonna get so mad if my clothes are dirty!”

“You pushed me first!” Killua shot back, putting all of his weight into rolling Gon onto his back. They struggled together for a little bit, Gon's nose scrunched up as his arms flailed. “Here, look! I'll clean it off!”

He shoved Gon's face under the water, laughing at the way he spluttered. His turn was next, Killua was sure, and it wasn't long before they were swatting at each other with wet reeds and kicking up huge waves of water. It didn't matter that his clothes were muddy and soaked, because he knew that he could just steal a pair of Gon's sleep pants and a tee-shirt to go home with.

As he thought about that, Gon flicked a wad of algae at him.

That night, dry and clean and covered in Gon's scent from the borrowed clothing, he opened the door to his apartment and was almost bowled over by the smell of blood.

 


	5. Chapter 5

“Kurapika,” Leorio said loudly. It couldn't have been the first time, Kurapika realized dully. He hadn't been paying attention. It bothered him that he'd gotten so invested in what he was doing that he'd missed his name being called.

“Yes.” He twisted a pin between his fingers, tracing a line across the map of Tokyo that was laying in front of him. Carefully, he pushed the pin down – southwest, Shinjuku. Ward four. Black pin – dead human, unknown ghoul. It was the fourth black pin that stood out in that area, next to an orange one. Known ghoul, escaped confrontation alive. Harlequin, if memory served. That had been two weeks prior, with seven police casualties on the scene and one fatally wounded to die in the hospital later. It was foolish to attribute the other deaths in the fourth ward to him, though. The Harlequin was a flashy killer. He wouldn't sneak around while hunting. And besides, he never stayed in the same place for long – assuming it was the same ghoul, and not more than one wearing the same mask.

“Finally. Take your nose away from that map for ten minutes, goddammit. You've been laying those stupid pins down for hours.”

“They're not stupid, they're a trend.” It was easier for him to have a physical map to work with; the digital ones were fine when it came to being able to be updated on the fly, but he did better comprehensively when his hands were involved. Kurapika glanced away when Leorio shoved a sandwich in front of him with a scowl. He looked at it for a long moment, incredulous. His stomach rumbled at the smell of it, and he wondered abruptly if Leorio hadn't been exaggerating how long he'd been at work. “... thank you.”

“If you die, we're screwed,” Leorio said, by way of excuse. Kurapika laughed a little. It wasn't a secret that Leorio had almost no proficiency with his implanted kakuhou yet. But that hadn't been the man's goal in the first place, so any attempt at shaming him for it was an abject failure. “What's so funny?”

Kurapika leaned on his arm, resting an elbow on the table. “You really aren't suited for combat. I think I like this better.”

“I'm not in this for combat.”

“I know. But you're here nonetheless.”

He hoped Leorio would survive to cash in on the massive monetary compensation that came to those who were willing to undergo kakuhou implantation. It was terrible, but Kurapika hoped the man would never be cleared for active duty as a Quinx squad member. Leorio should stay on stand-by forever, he thought. By contrast, Kurapika had already been approved. That was good. If he wasn't allowed on the front lines, there was no way he'd be able to face them down and destroy them. That was why he was there in the first place. Tracking down the Phantom Troupe was the only thing he had.

Kurapika pressed the pad of his thumb over the head of a pin. Red. Phantom Troupe member. He'd laid several on the map, spanning across all the wards. All incidents that could be confidently attributed to the Phantom Troupe, either by survivor testimony or the calling cards they left. A spider, with a number marking the abdomen. There were only certain numbers that were seen. Eleven. Four. Nine. It told him there were at least eleven members of the group, unless the numbers were retired when a member died. It was better to overestimate.

Pride, he thought it might be – the ones who left marks did it out of pride. Maybe to send a message. The ones who didn't were less boastful. But the incidents continued to crop up. Three in Setagaya. Two in Nakano. One in Taito. Five in Koto.

Seventeen in Ota.

It felt strange, the organ that shivered between his shoulders. Ukaku, he'd received, in contrast to Leorio's koukaku. It had itched terribly for days, and he'd slept poorly as a result. But his body had gotten used to it, and controlling the shining red limbs came surprisingly easy.

The supervising doctor had been surprised to see them come out red; it seemed that the ghoul the kakuhou had been harvested from hadn't had a red kagune. The fact of the matter was, most of the processes of the organs were still unknown. The changes between the original ghoul and the extracted kakuhou varied wildly. Kurapika wasn't sure if the replacement kakuhou that slowly formed was different from the original that had been harvested, either, and he wasn't sure if anyone knew.

Sometimes he wondered where they had come from. Who, really.

He'd been to the twenty-third ward once, where the Ghoul Detention Center was. He and Leorio had gone – the sole members of the Quinx squad, so far. In theory, the ghouls held there were the sources for the kagune used in all quinques. Kurapika always considered some doubt to be healthy, though. Biscuit Krueger, first-class investigator and head of the Quinx squad, had taken them there weeks before, to show them what they could potentially be facing. It had been a scare tactic, Kurapika knew, but neither of them had buckled.

It didn't mean he liked what he'd seen.

* * *

 

_The worst part was the ghouls on the bottom floor of Cochlea. No one was allowed that low down; the fourth floor was for SSS ranked ghouls, the most dangerous ghouls that the CCG had ever managed to contain. There were cameras everywhere, though, and they'd seen the feeds._

_Only a handful of ghouls were kept there._

_A woman who sobbed constantly was the first he saw – she had been captured recently, it seemed, half-mad and brutally injured, her stomach and throat both torn out. If the ghouls in the detention center were kept fed beyond the bare needs for survival, maybe she would have healed more. Instead, her weeping was only wheezing sobs. She looked miserable._

_It would have been kinder to euthanize her, Kurapika thought._

_Leorio's eyebrows drew together as he watched her. She didn't know they were there, on the other side of the cameras. That horrible rasping noise filled the room, and her tear-stained face looked up towards the ceiling. He couldn't read her lips well enough to tell what she was saying. “The sun,” he thought, she might be trying to say. It made sense. She missed the light of day, locked away in a cell the way she was with only the blueish glow of fluorescent lights._

“ _Do you know who she is?” Biscuit half-sat on the counter that sat in front of the camera feeds. She was watching them carefully, evaluating them._

_For a moment, Kurapika studied her. A middle-aged woman, powerful enough to warrant an SSS ranking. She hadn't been injured by an investigator, Kurapika knew immediately. It was sheer luck that she'd been found before dying. Based solely on that, there were only so many options for who she could be. Ghoul-on-ghoul violence of that extent was rare, especially for a ghoul of such an impressive power._

“ _She's from the thirteenth ward,” he said slowly, his fingers curling into fists as he rested them on the counter top. He leaned over to look at her again, the mess of a woman in the cell. Leorio's shoulders stiffened as he considered Kurapika's words. Thirteenth ward, unbelievable power._

“ _Correct,” Biscuit replied, almost unhappily._

“ _So she's the queen, then,” Leorio muttered, holding a hand up to his mouth as he thought. It was clear that he'd come to the same conclusion as Kurapika. “If she's here, who took her on? Not an investigator. If there was someone who could go toe-to-toe with her, they'd have done it before now.”_

_"We don't know yet. Until her vocal chords regenerate, we can't question her."_

_The Chimera Ants weren't his target, and this one was no longer a threat. The fact that another ghoul had been able to take her out of commission was a bigger concern. If the Troupe was involved, he'd find out soon enough. The feeling in his gut told him it was something else, though. It didn't feel like something the Troupe would have done. If they'd wanted to take out the Chimera Ants of the thirteenth ward, it would already be done. The whole ward would have been razed to the ground. And it didn't make any sense for them to settle down in one place, so that wasn't it either._

_Several cells down was an old man. He was reserved in appearance, but according to the files on him, he was one of the most prolific murderers Tokyo had ever seen. The scariest part of that was the fact that he had turned himself in willingly. He'd claimed responsibility for an unbelievable number of deaths, and had seemed quite content to live the rest of his life in the basement of the detention center. He was in his nineties at least, and it was almost unheard of for a ghoul to live that long. Kurapika had wondered how many people that old man had devoured, and if he felt any guilt over it. He didn't think that he did._

“ _He still won't tell us his name, though. He just smiles when we ask." Biscuit said with her hands on her hips. Kurapika's eyes flicked over to her, watching her carefully. She hadn't been nervous at all on the first two floors, though a handful of ghouls on the third had provoked some sort of reaction from her. Not fear, more annoyance. They were ghouls she'd confronted before, Kurapika thought. The calm little man in the cell seemed to concern her, though. Kurapika ran his eyes over the files. Unlike the previous ghoul, Biscuit hadn't made this one into a lesson and had let them see the information straight away. Kagune type: bikaku, age approximately 99. Blood type A. RC cell levels last documented at 7680. “Normally, we would employ more forceful questioning, but with a ghoul at his age and with his ranking, it's not feasible. The risk of someone dying is too great. So he's here, until the natural end of his life.”_

_They had been bad enough._

_Leorio's hands curled up into fists at the third ghoul who was kept on the fourth floor. His own mouth had gone dry, Kurapika realized. The sound of the elevator humming made him nervous, and Kurapika half-turned to look at it. Someone was coming down to their level, the security office on the third floor. The doors opened, and inside was the elderly chairman of the CCG. He stepped out with a smooth motion, and grinned at them._

“ _What did that one do?” Kurapika asked, putting a hand on Leorio's bicep as if to restrain him a little. It was two weeks before the kakuhou implantation, and he was glad for it. If either of them had been in possession of a functional kagune, probably, they both would have lost control._

“ _What do you think?” Netero tugged at his beard gently, watching both them and the ghoul on the screen. Kurapika's teeth dug into his bottom lip, and he let go of Leorio's arm. Below them, a ghoul wandered their cell, seemingly ignorant of their audience._

_They watched the camera feed in silence for a while._

“ _That ghoul is completely innocent,” Leorio said quietly, and Netero nodded._

“ _Not a bad answer.”_

_The ghoul looked directly at the camera, and smiled._

 

Thinking back on it, that smile still filled him with fear and sorrow.

 


	6. Chapter 6

“Stop doing this,” Killua said, pressing his hands over his nose and mouth. It was like talking about the man earlier had summoned him. Hisoka's eyes gleamed in the light, black and red and almost glowing. He was sitting on the kitchen counter, blood splattered around his mouth to drip down his neck. As usual, though, there wasn't a drop of it on his clothing. Killua balled his hands up into fists. “Stop it. Stop coming here. I'll call the CCG.”

“No you won't,” Hisoka sing-songed, and it only made him angrier that it was true. “How much of this apartment is tainted now? _So_ much blood. And what will you do if they question you? Killua-kun. How would you explain the fact that I don't want to kill you? Not yet, at least. You'd be arrested for abetting a ghoul, no matter what you said. I'd gladly incriminate you, after all.”

“I'd find a way,” Killua mumbled, before shaking his head. “No. Get out. Whatever it is you want from me, I won't do it.”

“Oh, don't be that way.” Hisoka crossed his legs, leaning back on his kagune and arms like they were a tripod stand. Killua knew he was leaving a bloody smear on the counter tops, one that he'd have to clean later. He didn't know where the body was this time, but he'd figure it out sooner or later. Hisoka always brought a body with him, like he was taunting Killua by waving corpses in front of his nose to see the way his face twisted in disgust. Knowing Hisoka, it was probably exactly what he was doing. “I came to pass on some very good information, information I couldn't just leave in a note.”

“From Illu-nii?” Killua set his bag down next to the door, ignoring the smell that filled his nostrils and the sickening feeling in his stomach. But even as he said the words, he knew it was wrong. If it was something really important, Illumi wouldn't have left it up to Hisoka. It had to be...

“Gon-kun is _quite_ curious, wouldn't you say?”

He wanted to leap at Hisoka and strangle him to death. It was no question that he would die if he tried it – the idea of fighting Hisoka was a laugh. Most ghouls wouldn't even dare to take him on, and a human... His eyes latched on to the kagune squirming at Hisoka's back. When did he ever put that thing away? “Yeah, he is. So what?”

“You're so much smarter than this, Killua-kun. Won't you react, just for me? Though, you holding your emotions so tightly is nice too.” Hisoka licked down his arm, lapping up the blood there. Killua didn't look at him as he tugged his shoes off. It was upsetting that he'd gotten so used to Hisoka showing up in his apartment that he felt safe turning his back on the man. He knew how Hisoka worked to some degree now, enough to know that he wouldn't raise a finger against Killua until his message was imparted. It wasn't any fun that way, after all.

“Save it,” Killua said, before yanking a chair away from the island counter so he didn't have to sit next to the worst of Hisoka's mess. There was a foot in his sink, and Killua wondered if Hisoka had been washing his food off before consuming it. It was a disturbingly human thing to do. He didn't dwell on it. That was somewhere he didn't want to go. Questioning the humanity of ghouls was something he didn't want to do. “Save your taunting bullshit and your trying to get a rise out of me and just say what you came here to say.”

“How cruel. I'm only trying to get some enjoyment out of helping you. It's hard to make the journey out to the fourth ward to visit you. The doves do love to flock here. I want to make the most out of each trip.”

Killua didn't respond to that. He crossed his arms over his chest, slumping in his chair. Hisoka's eyes were still solidly black, and it unnerved him a little. “You shouldn't want that kind of thing from a little boy.”

“You're not a little boy, now are you.”

“Shut up.”

“You're quite testy today, Killua-kun. Fine, fine. You should keep a closer eye on your belongings, to make sure they don't end up stolen or lost.”

Killua felt his heartbeat pick up as his mind took in the words and their potential meanings. It took him a moment to run over the possibilities, and he gritted his teeth. There was no point in rejecting the idea that Gon was his possession. He didn't want to open the topic for discussion. “Where did you see him.”

“Who can say? But perhaps I witnessed it, yes. His curiosity is a beautiful thing, but we both know where it will lead him if he isn't careful. And oh, how will he know to be careful without his beloved... friend, by his side?” The pause there made him feel sick. “He has good instincts, though, I will give him that. Good enough that he turned back without stepping into any hunting grounds.”

Killua's fingers dug into his sleeves. Hisoka had taken his time getting to the point, dropping his not-so-subtle cues before elaborating as always. Why? What was driving Gon's need for information? He'd learned something that had piqued it, Killua knew. And Gon was relentless; he would either find what he was looking for, or be devoured instead. “Nn.”

“Don't be that way.” Hisoka's slimy smile was back, and Killua's nostrils flared. “I'll just have to watch over him very, very carefully, then. I wouldn't want anyone to lay a finger on such a treat. He's not quite ready to be picked, not just yet.”

Killua imagined slamming Hisoka's face against the wall, over and over until his brain rattled in his skull and began to liquefy from each strike.

He said nothing. Tamping down on the anger and fear that rose in his throat like bile, he pointed to the door. “Watch him, fine. Don't even think about touching him. And leave.” There was rage in his voice despite his attempts, and Hisoka licked his lips slowly. Hiding his emotions to spite Hisoka had been a failure, as always.

“He's such a fascinating boy. How could I possibly resist?” He tilted his head back, uncrossing and recrossing his legs. Killua had the sinking suspicion that the man was erect, and he buried the thought. It made him want to vomit. “What would you do, I wonder?”

Killua stood very slowly. What he wanted to do wasn't an option, and they both know he was aware of it. His eyes slid to Hisoka's kagune, still happily sprouting from his lower back. When he let his gaze move back to Hisoka's face, their eyes locked. He wanted to shiver and run. Hisoka made him feel like prey more than anything else in the world.

Instead, he stood his ground with his shoulders squared as Hisoka slid off the counter and took a few long strides towards him. His skin prickled with fear. “ _Run_ ,” a voice whispered in the back of his head. It sounded like Illumi's. “ _Run_.”

He didn't.

Hisoka's kagune felt as sickening as his smirk. Killua didn't move, letting the twining tendrils curl around his neck delicately. The fact that it was so gentle made it worse, he thought. It made him more aware of how easily it could stop being gentle. “Killua, you even smell just like him.” Hisoka said, more a moan than anything else. If he reacted now, it would be what Hisoka wanted. He _couldn't_ react, even if Hisoka knowing what Gon smelled like filled him with terror. “Have you been... _intimate_ with him? Your brother would be devastated.”

“I don't care.” He wouldn't dignify that question with a response.

“Won't you indulge me?”

“No,” he whispered, fighting to suppress the urge to shudder as the tip of one of Hisoka's split kagune ran under his chin to tilt his head back. It made his eyes meet Hisoka's, and he clenched his jaw in response to the look on the man's face. “I won't.”

For a while nothing moved but Hisoka's kagune.

Killua closed his eyes, and felt the touch fall away.

“Maybe some other time,” Hisoka murmured, genuine disappointment in his tone. “You can't stay like this forever, after all. I would love to see how it ends for you... I'm looking forward to it, after all. And, a word of advice... there seems to be a bit of an infestation forming. You shouldn't let them into your home.”

He didn't open his eyes until he'd heard the window close again after Hisoka had leaped through it. Killua took a few carefully slow steps towards it before locking it and dropping the blinds. The foot was gone from the sink, but what appeared to be a calf and ankle remained resting on the counter next to the faucet. Killua swallowed hard, leaning his back against the refrigerator and sliding down to the floor. Hisoka's words echoed around in his head, and he scrubbed away at the sudden tears that burned in his eyes. If he cried, if he was afraid, it meant Hisoka was right. Hisoka couldn't be right.

Suddenly furious, he jumped back to his feet and yanked the freezer door open. A package of frozen vegetables slid out to hit the floor, and Killua bent to pick it up with dread pooling in his gut. Hisoka was wrong, and he could stay like this for as long as he needed to. If that was forever, it would be forever.

Killua's fingers shook as he yanked an ice cream sandwich out of the freezer, shoving the vegetables back in and slamming the door again. His eyes drifted back to the leg, and he turned away. It made him sick. The thought made him sick.

His fingers shook as he took a bite of the ice cream, the cold making his teeth hurt. It didn't take anything away from the taste, and he ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth. Chocolate was a vice, and he would indulge.

That was when the tears began, and Killua leaned over the sink. Bile rose in his throat, and his fingers curled around the edge of the counter as he vomited. It hurt – his stomach hurt, his throat hurt, and with each heave his chest hurt more and more. He'd tried, hadn't he? He'd tried so hard. Even the thought of standing up to Hisoka had been terrifying, but that had been something he'd managed. He could do it. He could do anything, he could...

Sobbing, Killua threw the remains of the ice cream sandwich into the sink alongside the bloodstains and splattered vomit. He shouldn't have been upset by it. He shouldn't have been upset by anything. His parents had told him, Illumi had told him. They'd drilled it into his head – the rhymes, the lessons, all the things he should know. There was no way he could let things like that affect him; he couldn't let himself be anxious or sad. Fear was the only thing that was important. Fear would save his life some day, but other emotions didn't matter, shouldn't, couldn't.

That's what his parents had told him.

The moment he let emotions take control, it was over.

He couldn't feel anything.

Ghouls didn't feel anything.

 

 

**mith·ri·da·tism** (mĭth′rĭ-dā'tĭz′əm)

 

n.

Tolerance or immunity to a poison acquired by taking gradually larger doses of it.  
  
---  
  
 

 


	7. Chapter 7

“Hey, Killua?” Gon's face pressed against his chest, and Killua's shoulders jerked at the sudden movement. He made a little grunting noise in response, not answering more than that. His stomach hurt, but with Gon asleep on top of him he hadn't been able to escape. He should have left immediately, to purge the poison sitting in his gut like lead. But then Gon had fallen asleep, and he was trapped until that moment. All he'd been able to do was take in deep lungfuls of Gon's scent, mixed with the faint smell of his shampoo. Gon's smell. It was better if he didn't think too much about that smell.

“Mm?”

“I had a weird thought, maybe.”

Killua brushed Gon's hair back before flicking his nose. It made the boy yelp, and he rolled over and off of Killua. _That_ made him fall off the couch, and he rubbed the back of his head while Killua snickered. “Do you have thoughts that _aren't_ weird? The other day you spent twenty minutes wondering if dogs understood numbers as a concept.”

“That was really important,” Gon protested, wrinkling his nose. He sat up, crossing his arms against a couch cushion and leaning on them. Killua shook his head with a smirk, only half-sitting. Something in his abdomen was cramping, a dull and aching pain. “Anyway!”

“Anyway. Hold that thought, I've had to pee for like a year and you're finally not laying on me like a dead fish.”

Killua got to his feet calmly, like he didn't feel ready to spew the contents of his stomach all over the floor. Gon frowned in genuine annoyance, and his cheeks puffed out in a tiny pout. Killua stuck his tongue out in response. “'Kay.”

He ran, silently, as soon as he was out of Gon's sight. It gave him more time, more time to ram his fingers down his throat and retch. It hurt, acid burning his throat and tongue as he vomited everything up in soft chunks. The vomit was thick and sour on his tongue, but it only helped him continue to purge it from his body. The splattering sound of it was too loud to his ears. Killua didn't look at the contents of the toilet bowl. All he did was lean against it with tears streaming down his face, trying to ignore the rank smell of bile and half-digested food. It should have been food, at least. But to him, it was just so much trash.

Every day he crammed it in and smiled, but it tasted the same going down as it did coming up again.

If it meant keeping Gon unaware, he'd eat it forever. Unaware, Gon was safe. Unaware, he could keep Gon away from it all.

He spat out a mouthful of what had been chicken and pasta, wiping the tears from his face as his throat convulsed and his stomach lurched. It took him a few moments to compose himself, and he rinsed his mouth out with mouthwash several times to get the worst of the sliminess out from between his teeth. It only brought a different taste to linger on his lips, and he spat out the minty smelling liquid with a wince.

Even that was no good.

He stumbled out of the bathroom with a grimace on his face, running his tongue around the inside of his mouth. The smell of mint wasn't _bad_ , despite how strong it was to his nose. It just tasted awful, like pulped grass and mud. Killua wondered what it tasted like to Gon, if he'd be able to smell it on his lips. He'd wondered that so many times. He just wouldn't get close enough for it to be a concern, like always. Rubbing his cheek, he made his way back into the living room to flop unceremoniously on the couch again.

Gon was sitting with his back against it, his knees drawn up to his chest. For a moment he looked disconcerted, but then he leaned his head back to bump against Killua's knee. “You peed for ages,” he said almost incredulously. “Was I asleep that long?”

“You have no idea,” Killua said with a snort, sprawling out with his hips jutting forward. Gon's cheek pressed against his kneecap, and he casually bounced it a little to disturb him. “I thought I was gonna explode.”

“Sorry.” Gon shuffled around as he clambered back onto the couch, throwing his legs over Killua's lap. He grinned, and for a moment Killua thought the other boy would scoot closer. “Can I talk about the thing I was gonna talk about before?”

Killua held a hand up to his mouth as if in thought, before nodding with a smirk. “Yeah, sure.” Then he remembered what Gon's one-track mind had been fixating on for the past few weeks. “If it's about ghouls, then never-fucking-mind. I'm sick of you asking weird questions about ghouls. I don't know the answers to them, you idiot.”

“It's not!” Gon protested, before pausing. He looked down at his knees with a frown, his lips set in a thin line. “I guess it kinda is.”

“Oh my god,” Killua mumbled, letting his head thunk against the back of the couch. “Okay, fine, lay it on me.”

Gon did move closer at that, sliding his legs back and away before resting his forehead on Killua's shoulder. Gon's smell filled his nostrils, and he sighed a little, having completely forgotten about the things he'd been worrying over. “Why do you think my dad decided to become a ghoul investigator?”

“... really? How should I know?” The thought of it was upsetting. Gon's father was the last thing he wanted to think about – a special class ghoul investigator so skilled and well-known that he was constantly moving between CCG headquarters all over the world. Killua didn't know what he would do if Ging Freecss returned to Japan. It would be too suspicious if he vanished without a trace as soon as the man stepped foot in the country, but the idea of coming face to face with someone who likely could identify him on the spot was terrifying. “Probably the same reason as most investigators. Reasons, plural, maybe. There's lots, I guess. What do you think? You have some sort of idea, don't you?”

For a moment Gon was quiet, and Killua could only hear the sound of their heartbeats and soft breathing. “I was thinking about it a lot lately. I didn't want to ask Mito-san... she always let me think it had something to do with my mom – I mean, my biological mom. But I don't think that's the truth. I think she just... wanted me to come up with some plausible reason in my head. You'd think if she said it had something to do with my mom, that it would mean he wanted revenge. That she... was dead, you know?”

The degree of thought that Gon was putting into it made Killua's chest feel tight. It was something he was worrying about, clearly. Killua leaned his head to one side, letting his cheek press against the top of Gon's head. “I mean... I guess that's what I would automatically jump to. But you don't think that's it? How would you know, though? I thought you were a toddler the last time you saw him.”

“Mm... I just get the feeling, you know? That if it was about revenge... he would have burned out a long time ago, or something. I think that's how hatred like that works. It's like a paper fire. It catches fast and burns really hot... but then there's nothing left and it dies out too soon to do anything real. If it was me, at least... If you or Mito-san were killed by a ghoul, I would want revenge. I just get the feeling that once I did that, I wouldn't... have anything left.”

“So...” Killua swallowed. His mouth felt dry. “If it was you, I think you'd do it just to protect people, b- yeah, yeah, I know, 'ghouls are people too, Killua!' You know what I mean... I guess you would never do something like be a ghoul investigator, then. You don't think your dad's that selfless of a person, do you. I hear about him on the news sometimes, so I guess I agree with you on that.”

Ging Freecss looked so much like his son that it was unsettling. It made Killua wonder what Gon would look like in his twenties. He hoped that he'd at least end up taller than his father, but he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was that Ging looked like an unwashed gremlin in every picture or video Killua had ever seen of him, and he wanted to believe Gon would turn out differently. It wasn't as if either of them would know for sure until Gon was much older, once hormones had changed his face and body.

“Well,” Gon started, before bringing his thumb up to his mouth to chew on the nail. Killua wanted to slap it away and chastise him for biting his nails, but he settled for scowling at the noise. It didn't seem to faze Gon. “I can think of a lot of reasons to be an investigator, but none of them seem right. And the only one that does seem right, I don't like very much. Because! If it was revenge I could understand that... sort of. I just think once you get revenge, there's... why would you keep hurting other people? And... I don't know. I don't feel like I know Ging at all. All I know is me, and I can only guess how much we have in common, right? I just get this feeling in my gut that says why Ging is what he is.”

“I don't get you,” Killua said slowly. “You gotta give me more than that or I won't get what you're saying. Why are you even thinking about this? I mean, why now?”

Gon sighed a little, and rolled to the side to look straight forward with him. “A letter came for Mito-san the other day, from someone Ging used to work with. Kite-san. I think I met him, once, when I was little. Anyway, I saw it on her desk, and... Do you ever wonder if the people you look up to are bad people? Like, your parents. I know you don't like your family very much, but...”

Killua looked at the ceiling for a long moment, until the lights overhead hurt his eyes. Gon wasn't an idiot – he knew Killua's dislike of his parents stemmed from something besides a child's resentment about over-protectiveness. It really meant something that Gon would ask that question anyway. “If... Well, say I wasn't their kid. Had no connection to them. I'd still think they were bad, probably.”

He thought about his mother's face, her eyes hidden by the mask she wore. It made her seem even less of a person, that visor-like mask. All he could ever see was her mouth – smiling, frowning, eating. Her teeth always shone too white, like bleached bone.

Killua gritted his teeth, remembering Illumi's cold eyes and the loud crunch of Milluki eating, the way his father sat with his legs crossed ankle over knee as he surveyed his children. He remembered the delicate way Illumi's kagune moved, almost surgically removing flesh from bone. He remembered the taste of blood and meat in his own mouth as a child, chewing methodically and spitting it out for Alluka. Her teeth hadn't finished coming in yet back then, before Kalluto had been more than a bump in their mother's stomach. And her chubby little hands had snatched greedily at the clumps of flesh, covered in red, red blood.

They were innocent, those hands.

For so long, they'd been innocent, not understanding where their food had come from, what it was. That humans were people had never even crossed Killua's mind. And why should it have?

“ _Kil, you know we're better than those humans of course. That's why they're only fit to serve as food.”_

He thought, maybe, that his parents were bad solely for being parents. Killua couldn't stand the thought of children – bringing more ghouls into the world. But it was wrong to fault them for that, for something ingrained in their very essence. Eat, reproduce, live. Animal instinct. Thinking of himself as above that was just as wrong.

“Oh,” Gon said quietly, looking at his hands as he folded them in his lap. Killua wanted to lean against him, maybe even wrap his arms around Gon's waist. That was the only comforting action he could think of, really. “I think, maybe, that I know why.”

Killua felt his heart flutter in sudden confusion, before he let the words sink in and reflect on the conversation alone. It had nothing to do with his own thoughts. “Your dad, you mean.”

“Mhm.”

“So...”

The word hung in the air, unanswered, as Gon looked at him out of the corner of his eye. Killua licked his lips nervously. Whatever would come out of Gon's mouth wasn't something he would like, he was sure, and Gon didn't like it either. “I thought, maybe... I mean. I don't know, you know? Like you said, I was... really little. I've only heard stories. But somehow I'm really, really confident that Ging is a lot like me. So I thought, what would draw me to be a ghoul investigator?”

That was a terrifying thought, and Killua banished it from his mind. It wasn't an option, anyway. He didn't say anything, just chewed on his bottom lip and waited for Gon to continue.

“Risking his life all the time, killing bad people, it's not about saving anyone really. It's not about anyone else, just him. Killua, do you think I'm an adrenaline junkie?”

“Yes,” Killua said immediately, almost incredulously. “You think you aren't? You go too hard at _everything_. Remember when you almost broke my finger playing air hockey?” Gon actually _had_ broken his finger, but the bone had knit back together before it could be examined. It hadn't been the only time Gon had wobbled on the line between stupid and dangerously stupid. Even thinking back earlier in the month, he could come up with countless moments where something could have gone incredibly wrong.

Killua couldn't remember a time where Gon hadn't been quick to fight, and that was just the first thing that came to mind. He'd been doing karate since he could walk without his legs shaking according to Mito, and she'd allowed it only because it was a way for him to work off excess energy and learn how to restrain himself. In seventh grade, Gon had tried to join every team the school offered, down to table tennis. Killua had barely been able to work him down to baseball and volleyball. The next year he'd given it up, because it “wasn't exciting anymore, and besides, I have less time to hang out with Killua!”

It hadn't stopped Gon's unbearable thirst for adventure. Sometimes Killua wondered if Gon would be a smear on the pavement without him around. Gon climbed trees as easily as breathing, and had started appearing in other high places he shouldn't have been able to reach earlier that year. Mountains were nothing. He was probably scaling the sides of buildings for fun.

It made him think of Hisoka. No wonder the other ghoul was so interested in Gon.

“Killua, you took it as seriously as I did.”

“You think I was just gonna let you win?”

“No, not really. That's what makes it fun though, right?”

Killua considered this for a moment. “Yeah, I guess.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

Getting into fights was just something that happened, Killua told himself. It hurt, but it happened.

His face crashed against the pavement, opening a long scraping gash along one cheek. It burned, and he hissed in pain. The feeling of his kagune shifting under his skin was worse, an itching distraction.

He didn't have time to yank the mask out of his bag. Killua wasn't even sure it was there; had he left it stashed under layers of underwear at home again? The fourth ward was peaceful. It had been so long since he'd last needed a mask, long enough that he wasn't sure if it fit his face.

The ghoul in front of him was wearing a mask, though. Two, really, as if she was being particularly careful about her facial features. Her clothes weren't so concealing, though, and Killua scowled at the sight of it. Her body swayed as she approached him, tugging the surgical mask that covered her mouth down to reveal grinning teeth. Killua should have known better, he reflected. He smelled like Gon, not a ghoul, and he looked like easy prey hanging out at night where he was.

His apartment complex wasn't so close to the thirteenth ward that he'd ever worried about it before, but the symbol embroidered on that mask left nothing to question. Killua pulled himself to his feet, scowling. It seemed to surprise the ghoul, and he couldn't blame her. The idea of a human being unconcerned when facing down a ghoul was an immediate red flag, one that could have multiple reasons behind it. He was too young to be an investigator, but...

Was she smart enough to figure out that she was outclassed?

“One of them, huh,” he muttered, wiping at his cut cheek. The cells there were already moving, weaving back together to heal the laceration. The smirk that had been on the woman's face vanished abruptly. Killua could see the area around her forehead ripple as her eyebrows drew down, and he knew she was pausing in thought.

“You're not a human,” she said slowly, with a bit of a grimace. Her voice was raspy. She sounded sick. “Drat. I got excited for nothing. But you're going to have to leave. This is going to be my hunting ground now.”

Killua licked his lips, looking her over. Thin – she hadn't eaten in a long time. Even if she was in top shape, it wouldn't have been a challenge. Things in her ward weren't doing well, clearly, if she was risking a push into the fourth ward. He pushed his hands into his pockets and raised an eyebrow at her. Ukaku, based on the fluttering kagune that extended from her back. They looked almost like dragonfly wings, so fragile. “Go back to your anthill. This is my turf.”

Was it because he looked like a child that she didn't heed the warning? Killua didn't know, but the moment she lunged, cackling, at him, he was in motion as well. It had been too long since he'd fought seriously, but it really was like riding a bike. His kagune burst from under his skin like a scab being torn off, faintly glowing in the dark alley. It almost hurt, it had been so long, and he rolled his shoulders to relieve the sudden throb there.

Killua threw the ghoul's head to one side, her torn-off wings to the other, and sighed. It would have been nice to get some information out of her before killing her, but the idea of them in his home disgusted him. There was blood on his pants, he noted dully. It was a shame. He'd probably ruined the back of his shirt as well.

It felt slick when his kagune retreated back under his flesh, and Killua rubbed at his lower back. “Idiot,” he whispered, to the corpse or the night or himself. He wondered what was going on in the thirteenth ward that made them start to branch out – overpopulation? Ambition? It didn't matter. Any Chimera Ants who crossed into his ward wouldn't be able to leave on their own two feet. Finally, he took his hands out of his pockets.

He wondered, tugging the masks from the dead ghoul's face, if this was what Hisoka had been cryptically warning him about. Infestation. Of course. He'd been too rattled about Gon to properly think about everything he'd heard. The surgical mask was only designed like one, he noted. It was made of pliant leather. He pocketed it; it would be a shame to just throw it away.

The Chimera Ants had never tried to branch out of their own ward. It wasn't a quiet area, even bordering the moderately peaceful fourth and third wards the way it was. Maybe it was that it was so perfectly situated from the CCG headquarters in the first ward that it was so chaotic; it was just far enough away that it had been considered worth the risk for many ghouls, but close enough that the doves could flock there easily.

Sighing, Killua kicked the head behind a dumpster. It wasn't like the body wouldn't be found, but it seemed like common courtesy to not just leave it out in the open for some kid to see. The woman's kagune had been nothing special, he noted; she barely got a chance to use it before his own was ripping it from her body. It was sloppy. She should have been faster than him, a ghoul who hadn't fought in what seemed like over a year. Weren't the Ants practically living in a war zone?

Illumi's kagune had been so much stronger, with the dull shine of an oil slick. They were all ukaku wielders in the Zoldyck family, all but himself, his father, and his grandfather. That was why he'd been considered the heir, he thought; he'd inherited his father's rinkaku. He'd been proud of it as a child, puttering around on it with his legs tucked up to his chest so they didn't touch the ground. Four kakuhou made him highly mobile, and if he'd stayed with his family he suspected the growth of the organs would have been stimulated to the point where he would have had more.

Killua frowned as he considered the corpse. He let two of the limbs of his kagune emerge and dart forward to snatch at the dead ghoul's body, lifting it up into the air to throw in the dumpster. It had been a while since he'd seen his own kagune; it seemed brighter than he remembered, glowing pale blue like a fluorescent light. Lightning, it looked like. That's what it had always looked like. Pale lightning, bursting from his back.

The body thumped against the metal of the dumpster, and the tendrils of his kagune shot back inside of him. Killua rubbed the back of his neck.

“Pain in the ass,” he mumbled, before walking away.

When he got home, he destroyed the shirt. It was ripped open in the back, and that couldn't be repaired. Bloodstains could be washed out, at least. This was another matter. Fabric tearing was the only sound in the apartment for a while, and when he was done he burned the scraps in the sink.

The leg Hisoka had left behind during his last visit was mostly gone. He'd fretted over it for a long while; who had it belonged to? Who was missing them at that very moment? But whoever it was, they didn't need the meat any longer. At the very least, he knew Hisoka was sporting about it. He never killed anyone who wasn't attacking him or able to put up a decent fight. Preying on the weak was boring, but if a human started a fight they were fair game.

Killua thought it was a pragmatic way of looking at things, as loathe as he was to agree with Hisoka on anything. There was no way he could let the meat go to waste, anyway. If he was going to survive, someone would have to die to become his meal. It was best to not increase the number of victims by being picky about what parts he took. Scavenging was better, but it was hard to do where he was now.

The fourth ward wasn't a popular suicide spot.

If he was going to keep Gon safe, he would need to drive the Ants out when they came creeping in. If he was going to be strong enough to keep the Ants away, he couldn't just eat enough to survive. If he needed to eat...

The idea of poaching other ghouls' kills was unpalatable. Killua thought it over as he chewed, the thick taste of blood in his mouth. The people would die anyway, he reminded himself darkly, biting through chewy muscle strands and letting them slide down his throat. He'd already eaten the tender flesh of the calf, and there was only stringy muscle and tendons left. After that, just bone to crack open and marrow to extract.

They'd die anyway, and amongst the other ghouls, the strongest would eat. He just had to be the strongest one there, that was all. Stronger than Illumi, stronger than Hisoka, stronger than his father. Strong enough to keep anyone who would hurt Gon away.

“I'm sick of killing,” he'd told Illumi. And he had been. He'd been so sick of carelessly slaughtering humans. It was unnecessary, wasteful, cruel. He'd only do what was necessary.

But not tonight, Killua decided. Even if it was his best opportunity – to kill, and frame the dead ghoul laying motionless in the dumpster several blocks away. He didn't need to kill yet. The leg would keep him going for another week, at least. When that week was up, Killua would have to pick his grounds carefully.

Probably, he would go to the thirteenth district.

 


	9. Chapter 9

“I'm gonna hang out with Zushi later,” Gon announced, kicking his feet up and over the arm of the couch. He said it oddly, and Killua flicked his eyes over to look at him. He didn't have time to supervise Gon, but if he didn't, who knew what could happen? Ants were crawling in from the gaps under the doors. If he didn't keep a careful eye on things, they'd overrun the ward soon enough.

“Really?”

Gon was quiet for a moment, before shaking his head. “No. I lied, sorry.”

Killua leaned on his hand, setting his pencil down. Homework could wait. Gon had already done his assignment, as always. Putting things off wasn't like him, but it was in Killua's nature. He threw his eraser at Gon, and it pinged him right in the forehead. “Tch.”

“Owow _ow_! I said I was sorry!” Gon rubbed the spot as it turned red. “I'm going to the first ward to have dinner with Leorio. He wanted to talk to me about something.”

Something about Gon's reluctance was worrying. It probably had something to do with Ging, Killua realized. Leorio was a Quinx squad member, after all. He wondered how the surgery had gone, what it felt like for them. Did it feel different? Killua wasn't sure what it was like to live without the dull pulse of a kakuhou at his back. Humans didn't have that, after all. Not normal ones, at least.

He picked his pencil up again, scratching out an answer to the math problem in front of him. “You could have just said that. I'm not gonna go with you, then. S'not like I got invited, so it's just rude.”

“You could come,” Gon grumbled, before rolling over onto his side. Killua snorted. If Gon wanted him to go, he wouldn't have lied about where he was headed in the first place. It was never clear what was going on in Gon's head, though. His mind was incredibly fickle, and he changed what he wanted constantly.

“I'll pass.” He had other things to do. Wandering the border between the fourth and thirteenth wards every night was exhausting, but he'd decided to do it and so he would. Even if it meant coming home at three in the morning covered in blood, with death in his teeth. Three more Ants had tried their luck near the southeast border two nights ago, all at once. That had been a disaster for them. He had enough limbs for all of them with some to spare. They were as easy to crush as the insects their masks vaguely resembled.

The last one had tried to run, he recalled. He'd cried, his kagune flailing helplessly as Killua's own wrapped around his throat and held him off the ground. It was better to do it quickly, but he'd needed answers.

He hadn't known a damn thing, he remembered regretfully. He just cried about the king, whoever that was. Killua wasn't stupid enough not to be able to connect the dots, though. The Ants had a queen – that was where they got their name. That, and the way they dug out the foundations of the buildings they lived in to form deep basement levels, tunneling downwards.

The one he'd questioned didn't say anything about the queen, just a king. He couldn't assume that to mean the queen had been ousted and the ward was under new supervision, even though it seemed the most likely answer. Ghouls didn't pass power on willingly, in most situations. Probably, the Chimera Ant queen was no longer a threat.

There hadn't been a king before, Killua knew. But it seemed like there was now, and his kingdom was either expanding, or his subjects were fleeing. It didn't matter, either way.

They weren't allowed in the fourth ward. That was where Gon was.

Killua thought about them for a moment, how it had felt to kill them. It wasn't much harder to kill a ghoul than it was to kill a human from a physical standpoint, and emotionally it was easier. Every ghoul that crossed his path was a threat, and eliminating that threat was his only option. It wasn't feasible for the long term, he knew, and he couldn't continue on blindly. The information he'd squeezed out of the three before killing them hadn't been enough.

Gon was quiet for a long moment, kicking his feet like he was twelve again instead of the sixteen he'd just turned. Killua remembered the birthday cake, and he especially remembered throwing it up later in tears.

“Okay. You should sleep, though, you know? You look like you're getting a cold, or something.”

Killua's fingers paused, then resumed their motion. It shouldn't have surprised him that Gon had caught on to his mild exhaustion. He was lucky that the truth was so unintuitive. “I might be. I've been sleeping pretty shitty lately, not sure why.”

“It's because you eat such bad stuff.”

“Ah, shut up.” Gon was right, not that he could know it. If nothing else, Killua's feigned love of junk food was a good cover. It was hard to suspect the boy wolfing down chocolate to be a ghoul. He'd gotten good at faking it. “Anyway, that means I'm making my own food tonight I guess.”

Scavenging had gotten more feasible the further into the thirteenth ward he stepped. The ghouls that inhabited the areas near the border between wards were weak and easy to scare off, like birds loitering around roadkill. They were nervous, not taking their chances with standing their ground. Killua was grateful for it, but also concerned. Something was happening in the Chimera Ants of the thirteenth ward, and he wasn't sure what it was just yet. The only thing he could say for certain was that he wouldn't like it when he figured it out.

That night, he thought, he would try to learn something more. Collect information, and then come up with a plan of attack. The fights wouldn't be hard, he knew, but finding out anything useful might be.

“Yeah, I guess. Mito-san would make you something, though.”

“Nah, I rely on her for food too much. I'm a big boy, you know? Gotta eat my carrots and grow up strong.” Killua thought about Hisoka, eating fingers.

He'd had nightmares about Hisoka lately; Hisoka's hands on Gon's neck, caressing the tanned skin there, Hisoka's lips on Gon's collarbone, Hisoka's kagune wrapping around his middle. Gon, naked and writhing under Hisoka's hands, moaning as the ghoul ate him.

He'd dreamed about Hisoka touching him as well, strangling him with his kagune. That was how it started, at least. He could remember it vividly, much more than he ever wanted to recall upon waking up. He wanted to forget it.

_Hisoka's freezing hands were on him, forcing him down on his knees, then further down onto his stomach. Forcing him into Illumi's arms, thin arms that wrapped around his waist. Killua could feel the tears start to form in his eyes, and he felt Hisoka's smile against his neck. Hisoka pressing against his back, Illumi at his front. llumi's breath on him was hot, and it smelled like blood. His clothes were gone, melted away by his brother's touch. Ripping away everything he could hide behind, leaving him bare and exposed, his shields shattered._

_The hands on his waist were Illumi's, but they were Hisoka's at the same time. They pressed against his lower back, and he screamed as fingers like daggers dug into him, tearing him open, dragging his kagune out by force. He screamed, bleeding and howling, as they tore the proof of what he was out of his body for all to see. “No,” he thought, but his arms wouldn't move, couldn't move, to protect and hide himself. If he reached back, he would fall into the sky forever and ever._

“ _Killua,” someone whispered against his neck. Illumi's breath smelled like..._

“ _Gon,” he sobbed, his hands digging into the bed beneath them. His arms shook from the effort of keeping himself upright. Gon's arms and legs were around him, holding him in place, clinging to him. “Don't look, don't look at me.”_

“ _Killua,” Gon moaned, his fingers on Killua's back. They found his kagune there, twitching and shuddering out of his skin, and one of Gon's hands tugged a limb to his mouth, kissing the glowing flesh. Killua shivered as Gon licked him, sucking the tip into his mouth. He wasn't sure what it was that Gon's lips were around anymore.“Killua, give me... all of you...”_

It made him wake in a cold sweat.

He had a few more math problems to finish, he noted. Math, at least, was simple. For the most part, there was only one answer. Gon hummed a little, sitting up to watch him write. When Killua glanced over, he grinned.

“You hate carrots.”

He hated everything he ate.

Killua shrugged, before solving for x.

 


	10. Chapter 10

“What do you think?” The sound of Gon's voice was too loud, and Killua squinted as he raised his head ever-so-slightly from his desk. Class had ended, he realized blearily. He wasn't sure when he'd fallen asleep or how he'd been allowed to do so undisturbed. Sunlight filtered in through the windows, the sky a dark orange. Why had Gon not woken him up to go home?

“Gon, you're too loud, you said you didn't want to wake him up!” The other boy's voice was a harsh whisper, but at least it was a whisper. It kept him from telling who it was at first. Killua exhaled loudly, rubbing his forehead against his arms. Blearily, he swallowed for the sake of getting moisture back in his dry mouth. “Oh...”

“Sorry, Killua,” Gon muttered bashfully, rubbing beneath his nose with one finger. He looked genuinely remorseful, and it was the only thing keeping Killua from smashing his head into the desk. Well, that and the fact that he was mad at himself for falling asleep in the first place. “I was gonna let you sleep a little longer.”

“Why,” he groaned, pushing his shoulders back to stretch out the stiff muscles there. “You could have just woken me up right away and I could have slept at home. Ah, Zushi's here, that's rare.” Zushi avoided his wandering gaze, which was sort of annoying in a way. He held his hand up and waved a little, at least. Killua looked back to Gon, who was looking directly at him.

“But you looked so peaceful.” They both knew it was a bold-faced lie, and Gon tried to stifle his laughter. He pointed at his forehead, grinning. “You had this line between your eyebrows. I just didn't want to wake you up.”

“Gon, I need to go,” Zushi said, fidgeting with the strap of his bag. “If I don't leave now, I'll be late for my lesson and the assistant master will scold me. I'll text you later, okay?”

“Ahh, can you wait just a minute? We can take the train together. Killua, you're awake now, so we can go.” Gon tugged at his arm, and Killua let out a played-up moan of frustration before going limp. “Killua!”

“Carry me,” he said, and before he knew it Gon was hauling him forcefully to his feet. His shoes squeaked on the floor, and they both wobbled dangerously. Gon probably _could_ carry him if he held still. “Wait wait wait I was fucking with you don't actually pick me up! Zushi, don't just stand there!”

Gon frowned, and for a moment they were just wrestling with one another while Zushi looked on, paralyzed in utter bafflement. He couldn't decide whether or not to act, Killua knew. He tried to wrench himself free of Gon's grip, but it was like fighting an iron shackle. “Come on, Killua!”

“All _right_ already! I just woke up, give me a fucking break!” Killua stumbled over his feet in an attempt to grab his bag, and Gon finally let go of him. “God dammit, you're so stubborn!”

“You said carry me and I was gonna! It's not my fault you changed your mind!” Gon put his hands on his hips, huffing audibly. Killua scowled, mimicking it to exaggerated effect. It made Gon repeat the sound, and Killua realized how quickly they could get in a bizarre feedback loop. He refrained from mocking Gon again for the sake of avoiding that.

“Um,” Zushi said, and Killua slung his bag over his shoulder. “Is it... okay if we go now?”

“Yeah,” Killua deadpanned, slapping Zushi's back just hard enough to sting. He laughed a little at the way the boy winced. It was probably bad to enjoy that. Sometimes, something about Zushi rubbed him the wrong way. The look in the boy's eyes was oddly uncomfortable. “Gotta pull it together, Zushi.”

“E-er, right!”

“Killua, you're so mean.” Gon's voice had a twinge of scorn in it, and Killua glanced at him as they walked out of the classroom. There was an expression on Gon's face that he couldn't really place. He wasn't sure if he'd ever seen it before. It wasn't as if he could just ask with Zushi there, though.

Instead of replying to that, he grunted and put his hands in his pockets. “Gon said you were getting your black belt, huh? Cool. Maybe one day you'll be able to beat me or Gon in a fight. Only then can you win my heart.”

Zushi's cheeks flushed at the taunting, but his mouth set in a determined line. “It's dangerous to underestimate people,” he said, so firmly that it made Killua pause with his hand in his shoe locker. Then he grinned, and it seemed almost like it disconcerted Zushi.

“Good answer,” he laughed, kicking his shoes off to change them out. “You're getting stubborner. I like it. Ah, but don't get as stubborn as Gon. He's bad enough on his own.”

“Killua's just as stubborn,” Gon muttered, tugging his shoes on. “You ate three full-sized chocolate bars even though I told you not to because you'd get sick. And you got sick!”

“That had nothing to do with the chocolate, I just wasn't feeling well!”

“It _was_ the chocolate, though!” Gon slammed his locker shut, shoving his hands in his pockets. Killua's fingers stilled on his shoelaces, and his eyes met Zushi's for a brief and confused moment. It seemed to make Gon realize how loud he'd been, and his cheeks turned pink. “Sorry, I just...”

“You're hungry,” Killua said with a snort, and Gon's face flushed darker as he nodded. “You're hungry and cranky and now you're taking it out on us like a big baby.”

Zushi covered his mouth with his hand, and Killua thought he might have been hiding a smile. Gon looked at his feet, frowning. His stomach growled audibly, and Killua almost choked on his own spit trying not to laugh. Gon blushed the whole way to the train station, and his embarrassment only fueled Killua's desire to mock him relentlessly.

“I bet you wish you had a full-sized chocolate bar right now,” he said, throwing an arm around Gon's shoulders. For a second it looked like Zushi would have an aneurysm from trying to hold back his laughter, and it served to make Killua's louder.

“Killua, quit it,” Gon whined, his hands twisting around the strap of his bag. “This is because you kept stealing my lunch again!”

Killua stuck his tongue out, knowing it was the truth. It made him refrain from making any other overt jabs, but he did pull a mercifully-empty candy wrapper out of his pocket to frown at in faked sorrow.

The train car was too crowded in the late evening bustle, and all it resulted in was the three of them standing squished together with their elbows bumping.

“This sucks,” Killua said, and Gon rolled his eyes. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zushi nod in agreement. “If you'd woken me up we could have avoided all of this.”

“Yeah,” Gon admitted, looking up at the ceiling of the car. “You looked so tired though. I felt bad.”

Killua grunted. “Don't try to turn this on me.”

“I couldn't help it, you know? When you sleep, sometimes your nose twitches a little, like you're smelling stuff in your dreams.” Gon grinned a little, and his arm brushed against Killua's. The statement made him blush a little, but in such close proximity it was hard to turn away to ignore Gon as obviously as possible.

“Probably having a nightmare about your farts,” he shot back, and Gon's indignant expression was worth it.

The train scraped to a stop, and the faint resulting lurch sent Zushi's bag into his side and Gon's nose against his cheek. How had he ended up sandwiched between them? It wasn't fair. It was their stop, though, and that meant squeezing back out to the doors. Gon almost tripped in the process since he was waving to Zushi, who responded to the near miss the same way Killua did by throwing an arm out to grab at Gon's shirt.

“Watch your feet, stupid,” Killua hissed, before waving to Zushi over his shoulder. “See you.”

“Bye, Zushi!”

“Bye,” Zushi said, raising his voice a little to be heard over the murmur of the crowd. The doors slid shut, and to Killua's sudden and intense shock, he spotted the back of Hisoka's head in the adjoining car from the one they'd been on. Dread stabbed into his gut, but it was too late to do anything about it. As he stared, Hisoka half-turned to face him, smiling in that unsettling way of his.

It had to be okay, Killua told himself immediately. He and Gon were off the train, and Hisoka didn't prey on children unless he thought he could provoke them into a decent fight. Zushi was human, young, and significantly below Hisoka's threshold for potential victims.

The train slid away, and his eyes tracked it. Gon seemed to notice, and he scuffed his shoe against the platform. “We gotta go,” he said stubbornly, grabbing at Killua's sleeve to tug him along. “Mito-san made dinner and I wanna eat. Aren't you hungry?”

He'd eaten the night before, sinking his teeth in the soft meat of an unfortunate corpse. The muscles in the man's neck had been too chewy for his tastes, but Killua wasn't about to complain about it. Food was food, even if he'd had to pick it out of his teeth later. He licked his lips a little before nodding. “I could eat, yeah.”

“Good. Come on.” Gon didn't let go of his sleeve until they'd left the train station. He didn't seem to have realized he was still holding on until then, but neither of them commented on it. Gon seemed fidgety enough already, and suddenly Killua didn't feel like teasing him anymore.

“Man, you're grumpy,” he said instead, before wincing. “Sorry.”

“It's okay,” Gon replied, though he didn't look back at Killua as he spoke. “I'm not mad.”

“Yeah you are. What's up with you?”

For a minute, Gon didn't say anything. It was only because Killua was staring so intently at his back that he noticed Gon's ears turning faintly red. “It's nothing.”

Frowning, Killua decided it was best to drop the subject. Instead, he looked up at the sky as they walked, and tried not to think abut Hisoka. It was hard to keep his mind from straying to the other ghoul, though – it was foolish to assume he _wasn't_ up to something. How many times had Hisoka been so close to them without him realizing it? In a train car, surrounded by humans, it was hard to pick out the smell of a ghoul without paying close attention. He'd made a mistake.

“ _Listen carefully, Killua,” his father said, putting a hand on Killua's back. He fidgeted a little, looking up nervously. Six years old, and staring down his first body. “One of the most important things for us to be able to do is to recognize the smell of a ghoul. Do you understand why?”_

“ _B'cause of quinques,” he mumbled. Alluka was holding his hand, the fingers of her other hand in her mouth. Killua reached forward and tugged them out easily. The first knuckles of her fingers were bloody, and the injuries began to heal in front of his eyes. “Don't chew, Alluka.”_

“ _Mhm,” she said brightly, her eyes fixed on the body. A ghoul's body, Killua realized, or else the lesson had no purpose._

“ _And what is it about quinques that makes us need to be able to identify them?”_

“ _Uhm,” Killua started, his eyebrows knitting together. “They smell like ghouls, but doves use them.”_

“ _And so...?”_

“ _If we smell a ghoul, it might not be one. And, and other ghouls might not be friendly either. So it's, should be... something we pay attention to, because it's important to be able to get away from them. So we gotta be super careful all the time.”_

_Silva ruffled his hair, hard enough that it jostled his head a little. “Very good.”_

He hadn't caught even a whiff of Hisoka. Disgusted, Killua scowled. He was glad Gon couldn't see him making a face.

“Hey, Killua?” Gon's voice was low, and Killua took a few steps to walk beside him instead of just behind. “Do you think we'll always be friends?”

A little jolt of fear stabbed through him, but he kept it carefully out of his expression. Killua kept walking, even as he hummed in thought. It was no good to be afraid that it wouldn't always be the case. “You breaking up with me?”

“Killua!” Gon's face reddened again, and he jabbed his elbow into Killua's side. Killua took the hit with a coughing grunt, and he rubbed his stomach. It had actually hurt, he noted with faint surprise. “I'm being really serious, you know? I thought, what would happen if me and Killua weren't best friends anymore?”

“That's not gonna happen.”

“But what if it did?”

“Gon, in like, sixty years, you're gonna be challenging me to a fucking footrace and then you'll break a hip and I'll collapse trying to carry you. What I'm saying is, we're probably gonna be best friends even when we die.”

Gon said nothing.

When he got home and dumped his bag out on the table, he realized Hisoka had gotten close enough to slip a note in it.

_Your doting big brother is missing you dearly. Do be careful. ~_ ★


	11. Chapter 11

Gon Freecss was more exciting than he had initially believed. Humans were so interesting in that way – as a whole, they were dreadfully boring and predictable, but every once in a while there was a diamond shining among the piles and piles of dirt, dirt that was only good for farming more. More and more humans meant more and more chances for something extraordinary.

And Gon _was_ extraordinary. Enough to play with, but not just yet.

“Hisoka.” Illumi's voice was the same as always. He wanted to reach out and wind some of that long, black hair around his fingers. Maybe pull a little, to see how the other ghoul would react. Instead, he laid a finger alongside his cheek, leaning into his hand. The wine glass in front of him was half-full still, glistening dully in the faint light. The bar was fairly busy, almost bustling with ghouls. They were just another pair in the sea of bloodstained beings.

“Yes? I'm shocked to see you here. Delighted, even. Are you here to ask me another favor, perhaps? I will have to cash in eventually, you know.” The fourth ward wasn't too far out of Illumi's typical grounds, but he was always loathe to take the trip out there. In some ways, Illumi was astonishingly simple – he didn't want his brother to hate him, so he kept himself in the shadows and tried with all of his twisted heart to bring the boy home.

“He's changed his phone number again,” Illumi said, not answering the question. He pulled a chair out from the table and sat, his dull eyes drifting to the window. “I have to get the new one. Mother is crying.”

Hisoka resisted the impulse to roll his eyes. “A hovering family will always result in a resentful child,” he said in a lilting voice, sliding his glass across the table. Illumi ignored the offering. A shame, Hisoka reflected. An indirect, bloody kiss would have been wonderful in a way.

“Hm.”

“So very boring. Could it be that you're merely here to enjoy my presence?” Illumi couldn't recognize a joke if it slapped him in the face, of course. That was one of the things that made him so frustrating. Hisoka watched the man out of the corner of his eye. Illumi stared straight forward, out at the city lights beyond the window. Even at three in the morning, the seventh ward was active. That was what he loved about wards that had greater populations of ghouls. The night life was always so lovely.

“No.”

“Of course not. You'll break my heart some day, being so cruel.” If it were Killua, he would have been quick to shoot back something like “You don't have a heart,” but his brother was so much less volatile. “So, then what is it?”

For a moment, Illumi seemed almost disconcerted. His eyes flicked to Hisoka, then back to the window. It was a shock. Hisoka sat up fully again, directing his gaze to Illumi's blank face in an attempt to discern any hints.

“Oh, dear. Don't tell me you approached me instinctively, without any goal in mind?” That was exciting. That was very, very exciting.

Illumi hummed quietly, leaning forward on his arms. He was the closest thing Illumi had to a friend, Hisoka knew. The man was too twisted to understand his own loneliness. If only he could utilize that to his advantage.

“Well, until you decide what you want, I'll have to fill this silence with idle chitchat, now won't I?” Hisoka crossed his legs, taking a sip from the wine glass. It was AB positive, fresh. He'd seen the corpse himself, a spry young man. It was best to know where each meal came from. There was no telling where some humans had been or what was stirring inside of them.

Just the other day he'd met a ghoul who preyed exclusively on pregnant women. A complete waste, that was. A waste of a future human. Hisoka had killed him slowly. He hadn't even given him the courtesy of being sampled – Hisoka was sure he'd have tasted unspeakably awful. “I've been having such a terrible time with Machi,” he admitted, resting his chin in his hand. “She's giving me the cold shoulder again. Women are a mystery. I'm not sure what to do next. She didn't appreciate the intestines I carefully harvested for her. What do you think?”

“Isn't it just that she doesn't like you?”

“No, no, that's ridiculous.”

“Hm.”

“Although, the Troupe has been so boring lately. You would think that wouldn't be the case, and yet it is. I've been trying so hard to spice things up again, but the doves are being too cautious to take the bait.”

“You're the one slipping tips to the CCG, then.”

Hisoka waved the hand he wasn't leaning on. “How else am I supposed to have any fun around here? You really should keep better track of your other siblings, though. The little one, the _very_ little one, always wearing a lovely, delicate kimono? They've been lingering around the Troupe. Trying to get on their tail. But that's not my concern. There are too many to pay attention to, after all.”

He wasn't sure what to call the youngest Zoldyck child. It was easy to make assumptions from clothing and behavior, but assumptions were boring.

“You have someone in mind.” It wasn't a question, and Hisoka let his eyes linger on Illumi's lips and chin as he spoke. Thin, pale lips – the Zoldycks were all pale, so pale they seemed to shine in the moonlight. Sometimes it made him wonder if there was some distant relation. But Illumi didn't care about anyone but Killua; he obeyed his parents because their priorities were the same, but it seemed that the only person reflected in those cold, dark eyes was the one person who hated him the most.

“Yes, maybe~” It was best to keep Illumi's attention closer to home, so his eyes wouldn't find Gon, Hisoka decided. If that information got out too soon, all of his delicate arrangements would go to waste. He'd done a fine job slipping notes into bags, he thought. Killua hadn't even noticed him. The boy was getting sloppy, though, so he couldn't even enjoy that much. “What do you say, Illumi? Will you be that someone?”

“No.”

“You're all the same.” He paused, licking his lips. “At least Killua had the decency to get angry with me, though he tried so, _so_ hard to hide it.”

Illumi's eyes were on him then, and they looked like black pits in his face for a moment. Hisoka felt his lips curl up into a smile. Illumi was so lovely when he was angry. It made it hard to resist winding him up. “When did you visit Killu?”

“Hmmm. Let me see... it must have been the time you asked me to stop in, hm? To make sure he was eating properly. It must have been that time. After all, I wouldn't _dare_ try anything, would I? Maybe you should keep a closer eye on me.” It was just as likely to backfire, Hisoka knew. If Illumi took the bait and ran in the wrong direction, it would bring him right to Gon. It meant he had to direct all of Illumi's suspicion and scorn onto him. A herculean task, but one he was more than willing to take on.

“Oh,” Illumi said. “You're doing this on purpose.”

“You think?”

“Yes.”

“Darn.” Hisoka ran his fingertip around the rim of the glass. “You do know me, I suppose.”

“Hm.”

“So, what do you think I should do?”

“About?”

“Machi.”

“Oh.” Illumi turned away again. He could never tell what was going through Illumi's mind; it made it hard to deal with sometimes. “Who knows.”

“... you're so boring.”

“You act too rashly.”

“Yes?” That was something he couldn't even begin to deny, but there was always a logic to his actions. Illumi had to know that. Illumi lived based on a cold logic. “What have I done this time?”

“The doves. If you bring them towards the Phantom Troupe, you could destroy the equilibrium of the twelfth ward. That is where they are currently, isn't it? And currently, it's in a volatile state. The presence of the CCG will only plunge it into unnecessary chaos.”

The word “unnecessary” was interesting to note.

“So you _are_ aware of that. I thought you didn't care about any of your siblings except for Killua. Color me very, very shocked.”

“Kalluto is acting out. Of course I'm aware. Our mother is beside herself, with Killu's refusal to come home and Kalluto's recent behavior.” Illumi leaned back in his seat, his eyelids finally closing after an impossibly long time. Hisoka hadn't seen him blink since he'd arrived until that point.

“Oh, come now, didn't you have a rebellious phase yourself?” Hisoka made a show of pausing to think about it, before continuing. “I suppose not. Dull, dreary Illumi.”

“Is that an insult?”

“You wouldn't take it as one, so, no. More important than that, have you seen what they call me? The doves, I mean. 'Harlequin.' It's so uninspired. I'd much prefer 'Magician', but it's not as if I could change it for them. Maybe if I started leaving calling cards.”

“You're flashy enough as it is.” Illumi crossed his legs ankle over knee, lacing his fingers together in his lap. Hisoka wondered if he knew how cartoonishly evil it made him look. Probably not. Illumi lacked awareness in those ways. Even if he knew, he surely wouldn't care.

“Don't say that. Ah, but if the doves do come knocking, I'll be sure to extract your wayward sibling from the scene before they gets their clothes dirty. I can't guarantee I'll send them back in one piece, though.”

“Oh.”

“ _No_ fun.”


	12. Chapter 12

There wasn't a single speck of fairness, Killua decided, standing motionless in the darkened street. He knew the man sprawled face-down in a puddle of blood. There was blood on him as well, splattered across his chest and stomach. Not his blood, not even human blood.

It had been too late to save the man, but the ghoul he had needed to take care of. He didn't even look at the crumpled, shaking man as his kagune ripped into him. The ghoul was still alive, barely, and his open eyes tracked Killua as he stepped closer. The rest of his expression, Killua couldn't tell. It was hidden behind his mask, a dull grey with what looked like antennae on it and the Chimera Ant stamp on the forehead. Another stray insect. “Stay out of my  _fucking ward,”_ Killua whispered, before crushing the ghoul's head under his foot.

He'd kept the mask he'd taken off the dead ghoul a week prior. That had been in the news as well - “Unidentified female ghoul found dead in south Shinjuku,” the report had said. Killua had turned the TV off before Gon could see the headline. It was too obviously a ghoul-on-ghoul crime, even though they were on the wrong track for the reasoning. It was more intuitive to think it was a fight over a meal than anything else. He couldn't blame the misconception. The other bodies hadn't been reported on, though. Not yet.

It was hard to breath in the mask. He tugged it down a little, tucking it past his chin. That felt better, but less safe.

Killua dipped one limb of his right kagune into the spilled ghoul blood. On the wall of the building behind him, he drew out the symbol that was embroidered on his stolen mask, including his own addition. It had taken a while before he'd doctored it to his liking; Killua wasn't as good with needle and thread as he'd like.

More important was what he was doing now, though. If he didn't make a statement out of it, the message wouldn't be sent. Carefully, Killua traced out the insect with his kagune in fresh blood, circled it, and slashed a line over it.

No Ants. It was the clearest warning he could give without spelling it out.

Once that was done, he knelt down beside the human body. It hurt, a little, when he rolled the man over to examine his face. Cracked glasses hung from one of his ears, and Killua tugged them away gently, folding them shut and setting them aside. He swallowed hard, hating the way saliva pooled in his mouth at the smell of fresh blood. This wasn't food, he wanted to scream at his own body. Even though someone else had already started to eat. A chunk of his neck was missing, and Killua grimaced as he tried to straighten out the corpse. The body was still warm.

“Sorry, Wing-san,” he whispered.

Something moved in the corner of his eye, and panic raced through Killua. Each limb of his kagune shot back into his body, almost giving him whiplash. His body rocked from the suddenness of it, and he jumped to his feet and spun as fast as he could to look at the source of the movement. He prayed it was a stray cat. It wasn't an option to get caught.

A pair of wide and terrified eyes faced him, and Killua wanted to cry even before he realized he recognized the boy standing in front of him. Wing, and so of course, because it wasn't enough to destroy one life...

“Zushi,” he breathed, reaching to slap a hand over his mouth and chin. Even with the hat that covered his swept back hair, without the mask concealing his lower face it would be too obvious. It was too late, he knew, even as he yanked the mask back into place. Zushi had recognized him, even as the boy tried to back up further behind the row of trash cans he'd been hiding behind. How had he not noticed Zushi there? He'd been too absorbed in slaughtering the ghoul. The other boy was crying silently, his hands pressed against his mouth to cover the sound of his breathing.

Almost silently, he heard Zushi sniffle.

Killua looked at his hands, covered in blood. It looked bad. But if Zushi had been there all along, he had to know that Killua wasn't the one who had killed Wing. He took a deep breath. “Zushi, are you okay?”

There was no reply, and Killua bit his lip under the mask covering his lower face. He tugged it down again, wincing at the smell of blood so close to his mouth. “Zushi. It's Killua. I'm not gonna hurt you.”

Zushi's voice was shaking when he finally spoke, and he couldn't blame him for being so afraid. “Y-you, how can... I, I thought, you were...”

“Yeah,” Killua muttered, not loud enough for Zushi to hear. He had a lie in reserve, but he hadn't thought about what to do if he ran into someone he actually _knew_. “I'm not a ghoul,” he lied, making sure his voice was strong and even, like he hadn't just murdered someone. 

“B-but-!”

“It's okay. I know. It's scary. I'm not gonna eat you, I promise.” The thought was repulsive. Zushi was fourteen years old. He had a life ahead of him. “You know what the Quinx are, don't you?”

Understanding dawned on Zushi, and he knew the boy had bought it. He crawled back out on wobbling hands, tears and snot streaming down his face. Killua looked back at the crushed skull of the ghoul and frowned in disgust. “The, the assistant master, he...”

“He's dead,” Killua said in a low voice. Zushi nodded, even though his face twisted up in despair and he looked like he was about to collapse into screaming sobs. “I'm sorry. I...”

“It's my fault,” Zushi whispered, scrubbing at his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “I had, I had questions, about tomorrow, and b-because of that we ended up running late. And, the assistant master said, he would walk home with me, because it was dark, and... lately, ghouls had...”

“Zushi, I want you to listen to me really carefully, okay?” Killua didn't want to look at Wing's body any more than he had to. He knew what he was going to have to do with it, after all. “Wing-san is dead. There's nothing either of us can do about it, and blaming yourself isn't going to help. Here, come here.”

Zushi took his proffered hand, and Killua could feel the way the boy shook. It made him want to cry too. That wouldn't accomplish anything, though. “Is... the ghoul, they're...”

“Dead. He can't hurt you. I'm right here, I'm gonna keep you safe, okay?” He didn't know where to go from there. If Zushi went to the authorities, it would eventually come out that Killua wasn't a member of the Quinx. He had to make something up and fast. “I need you to do something for me.”

“O... okay.”

“You can't tell anyone about me, okay? I'm not supposed to be using my kagune this early after the procedure. I'll get put on probation. And, I mean, anyone. Gon doesn't know, so you definitely can't tell him. I wanna be the one who does that, you know?”

Shivering, Zushi nodded. He pulled his hand away from Killua's before bending to pick up Wing's shattered glasses. His fingers trembled, and a bit of glass fell to the ground from the thin frames. “What... should I say?”

“You should probably say what you thought happened before I talked to you. A ghoul attacked you, and another one killed the first one.” The truth was the right thing to say, Killua thought. “And then they left. They didn't notice you. You didn't see their face, because you were hiding.”

“And, the... the assistant manager, what will...”

Zushi, Killua thought, was handling this remarkably well. He was glad. It meant he didn't have to murder one of Gon's friends. His friend, too. “I'll take care of it.”

It was only because he was so shaken that Zushi didn't question that. A moment's thought brought up so many problems with the idea of him dealing with the body. But Zushi was a crying mess, and all he could do was clutch those broken glasses and tremble. He held them up to his chest, pressed tight against his shirt.

Over the growing dark stain there.

Killua cut the scream off before it could escape his throat as the oily black of Illumi's kagune burst through Zushi's chest. Blood splattered against the street and his clothes, and Killua leaped back, his kagune springing out to stabilize him as he jumped.

“No,” he whispered harshly, before diving forward again. It was only in time to catch Zushi's body as it slid from Illumi's grip with a wet lurch. The boy's eyes were open, still, but they were already unfocused even as his lips moved to try and speak. Killua wanted to cry. He'd said he would protect Zushi. He'd meant it, and he'd failed. Zushi sucked in a wet, rattling breath, and went still in his arms. “ _Aniki_.” How had he found Killua? Was it coincidence? Had Hisoka told him?

“Why. Why did you...” Killua wobbled back to his feet unsteadily, forcing his kagune back. He wasn't strong enough to confront Illumi.

“You should know better than to leave witnesses,” Illumi said calmly, in that emotionless way. Behind him, Killua could see the shining pink of Hisoka's kagune waving from around the corner of a building. Standing watch, maybe. With him there as well, fighting Illumi was even less of an option. “We taught you better than that, Killu.”

“I,” Killua started, before looking back down at Zushi. A thin dribble of blood had begun to trickle down his chin, and he looked even younger than he was. Had been. Killua's mouth was dry. “Do you think you're _protecting_ me, or something?”

“Of course.” It seemed obvious to Illumi, he was sure. Witnesses were a liability, and humans were only prey. Behind his mask – pale as death, with no features – his eyes were as cold and empty as ever. His kagune gleamed at his back, still dripping with blood.

Kneeling down again, Killua ran a thumb over Zushi's cheek. It came away wet with tears, and Killua wanted to scream. “Go away,” he whispered to them, before folding Zushi's hands over his chest. He'd dropped the glasses, Killua noted dully. It was hard to think. His mind felt so empty. What was he going to do with the bodies? He couldn't let Hisoka or Illumi take them. That wasn't an option. Thinking of Hisoka eating them – eating Wing, eating Zushi – made him sick. Was it any better if it was him? If he could make himself eat them. He thought, maybe, if it was just Wing. But Zushi. He couldn't leave them. He couldn't... The impulse to run was pounding in his chest along with his heartbeat.

“He was fourteen, you know. You asshole, you _horrible_ -” Killua set the shattered glasses down on Zushi's chest, curling his fingers around the bent frames. He looked up at Illumi again, wishing he could tell what his brother was thinking, but grateful that he couldn't.

“That doesn't matter. Aren't you going to eat?”

He didn't really know anything about Zushi, Killua realized. Where he lived, who his parents were, he didn't know any of that. Did Zushi have parents who were worrying right now, wondering where their son was? Who would cry over his body?

“Of course not,” he whispered.

“I see,” Illumi said, before casually severing one of Wing's arms and sinking his teeth into it.

Sobbing, Killua fled.

 


	13. Chapter 13

Coming to school on Monday had been the worst decision he'd made, Killua thought. It had been two days since Zushi died. Gon was still in the dark, and he was grateful for that. He wasn't sure how long it could last.

“I'm fucking tired,” Killua sighed, slumping over his desk. It was true. He hadn't slept properly since before Saturday. It was too scary to think of what he might dream of. Gon scooted his chair closer to his desk, frowning at the notebook in front of him. It didn't seem like he'd heard Killua speak. It was annoying to be ignored. “Gon. Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“D'you even hear me?”

“No,” Gon admitted immediately, his eyebrows drawn together in perplexed concentration. Killua looked at his hands. If Gon didn't want to talk to him, there was nothing he could do to change that. He kicked the leg of his desk gently, yawning. He had to pee, but he didn't want to get up.

It was strange to think that Gon wasn't looking at him. How long ago had it been that he'd run away? It felt like forever, but when he thought back, it had only been three years. Twelve. He'd been twelve.

_It didn't matter that his mother was sad, or that Milluki was angry at him for slicing into them with his kagune. He wasn't going back, so it didn't matter. He hated them. The only thing he wanted to think about was the sound that the skateboard wheels made against the pavement and the feeling of the wind against him. Like this, he was free. Free from all the shit that made up his life – shit and blood and tears. Killua kicked at the ground for another burst of speed, gliding down the street and skidding into a side alley. He threw a hand out to slap a box of shredded papers, sending them flying in a cloud of scraps. It felt good. A cat twitched its tail at him, and he sneered at it._

“ _You're really fast,” a voice said incredulously. There was a boy there, sitting on the stairs to an apartment. Around his age, maybe, Killua thought. He'd never seen a boy his age in his life. Kalluto was way too young to play with, Milluki was much older than him, and Alluka was his sister no matter what anyone else said._

_Alluka._

_He turned his attention to the boy._

_Killua stepped off his skateboard, flipping it up with his foot. “Yeah, maybe.”_

“ _It's cool!” The boy got to his feet, excitement shining in his eyes. Killua took a step back, taking a good look at him. A little shorter than he was, with tanned skin and black hair that stood up in wild spikes. The lack of concern about his surroundings made Killua think he was a ghoul, but his smell said otherwise. Killua felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle as the boy held a hand out to him. He wasn't sure what he wanted Killua to do with it. “I'm Gon! Gon Freecss.”_

“ _... you stupid or something?” Killua shoved his hands in his pockets. It was almost infuriating. How confident did Gon have to be to just talk to anyone he saw? “Just walking up to someone in an alley. What if I was a ghoul? I'd eat you up really quick.”_

“ _Hmm,” Gon said, tapping a finger against his lips. “Maybe. But I don't think you would do that.”_

_Killua squinted at him in confusion. “How do you know?”_

“ _Just a feeling, I guess. What's your name? Do you live here? I'm from the twelfth ward, but we've moving soon. My mom is looking at apartments around here or in the fourth ward, but I don't know anything about what it's like in either place.”_

“ _I'm not from here either,” Killua admitted, looking down at his feet. He'd fled into the third ward simply because it was the closest route to the CCG, and so it was his best bet to avoid being followed out of the ninth ward that his family ruled. He didn't plan on going back. There was nothing for him there anymore. “My name's Killua.”_

“ _Killua. Hi, Killua!” He stuck his hand out again, and Killua abruptly realized that he'd wanted to shake hands. He felt his cheeks flush a little at the fact that he hadn't realized it before. Not meeting Gon's eyes in his sudden embarrassment, he took the other boy's hand._

“ _Hi, Gon.”_

_Gon was human, and he was happy. Even though he was prey in a world that would gladly tear him to pieces, he was happy._

_Something about that was really beautiful, maybe._

“Hey, Killua,” Gon said quietly, Tuesday evening as they walked to the train station from school. “Have you talked to Zushi lately?”

Killua hummed a little, his lips closed around the straw of his juice box. He made a show of thinking about it – enough that it seemed genuine. Gon couldn't hear his heartbeat accelerate, so as long as he kept cool, it was fine. “Nah. Did he get his black belt?”

“That's the thing,” Gon replied, pulling his bag around to reach into it and get his phone. He flipped it open and ran through the messages while they walked, pulling up a conversation to show to Killua. It was from a week and a half ago. He scrolled down the chat, all the way to the bottom.

Zushi's name in Gon's contact list had a little sushi emoji next to it, Killua noted with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

_< Anyway, the ceremony is on Sunday.|_

_|that's really cool, Zushi!! >_

_< I'll try my very best!|_

_|tell me how it goes, okay? >_

_< Ossu!|_

_|OSSU!!! >_

And, on Sunday night.

_|did you get your black belt yet??? I wanna see it, so take a picture as soon as you can. >_

An hour later.

_|sorry, I bet you went to bed. I'll talk to you on monday, okay??? >_

Zushi had been absent on Monday, of course.

_|hey, are you sick? >_

_|make sure you eat lots of soup and good stuff! >_

_|zushi??? >_

Below that text was another, one from Gon that was covered by his thumb. The last two messages registered as unsent. Zushi's phone must have run out of battery eventually.

“I called him,” Gon said, his eyebrows furrowed in unhappiness. “But his phone was off. And today, when you went to the bathroom after lunch, I went down to his classroom. He was absent again today, and no one's talked to him since Friday.”

“... what are you...” Killua started, before letting his footsteps slow. The fact that he was pretending to come to a realization was horrible. “Gon.”

“I'm sure whatever's going on, he'll be back soon. Probably sick. I just figured I'd let you know, right? So if he says something to you, tell me?”

“... yeah. Duh. He'd talk to you before me, though, don't be a dumbass.”

“Probably. He likes you too, though. So maybe not.”


	14. Chapter 14

“He's not honest at all,” Gon said quietly, staring into his coffee like it had the world's answers written inside it. He dumped a packet of sugar into it, stirring it in with his spoon. “I guess... I don't really have any right to be mad about that.”

“It's unfair to demand someone tell you the truth when you're concealing things from them. You know that.” It didn't hurt to reiterate the point. Gon could be remarkably astute in some ways, but assuming he really, truly understood something was never wise. In the few meetings they'd had, he had been able to determine that much.

“Yeah,” Gon replied unhappily, putting his elbows on the table. “I wanna tell him the truth, but he'll... just get so mad, and I think, scared? So it's better to say I'm hanging out with Leorio or Kurapika, I think... but I feel bad.”

“You have to make your own decisions.”

“Can't I ask you for advice, though? I mean... you know more about this kind of thing. I still don't know if I'll... be able to do it. But, I think, if I want to be able to protect everyone, I have to.” Some part of that was a lie, he suspected. It was Gon telling him what he thought he had to say, not what he really thought. The way Gon operated was off; he figured out what people wanted to hear, and offered that up as reason, or took the excuses he was given and agreed wholeheartedly with them.

“It's my job to know about it. If you make this decision now and regret it later, it can't be undone.” It wasn't wrong. Gon was legally a minor, but it didn't matter. This was a choice he wouldn't be swayed on. There was no point in trying to convince him otherwise. He had enough experience with that particular brand of stubbornness.

For a long moment, Gon didn't speak. He rubbed his thumb across the paper of his coffee cup, and sighed. It was still too hot to drink. “I don't want to lie. But I don't want to hurt him either. And... this is what I want to do, even if it's selfish or he'll be sad. I feel like, if I don't do this, I'll regret it even more.”

That, at least, was truthful.

“So that's your choice, then.”

“Yeah. But I'll follow all the rules, I promise. I'll listen to what you tell me.”

“And your mother? Has she given her approval for this?”

“... I didn't tell her.” Gon took a careful sip of his coffee. Based on his expression, it was bitter, but he took another mouthful without complaint. Coffee was an acquired taste.

“You're going to go straight through to Ging, then.” It didn't sit right with him, but it wasn't as if he could control what Gon did. Mito and Ging were his legal guardians, and Ging would undoubtedly give his full, and most importantly, legal, approval. To some degree, it was twisted. Gon was using his father's distance to his advantage, utilizing Ging's connections and bizarre ideals to circumvent the woman who had raised him. It was clever, and so he had to give Gon credit for it. He was showing that he had the intelligence to reach his goal, and he was also showing that his ambition was strong enough to lead him to do something very cruel to his mother.

“... mhm.”

“She does have custody of you as well. It's unfair to keep this from her.”

“I know. I think... it's better if I don't tell her. Not yet.”

“I don't like this, Gon. You know that. But you're old enough to make your own decisions, and so you deserve to be treated like you can do so. You're going to do this no matter what I say, even though you asked my opinion?”

“Yes.”

He stood, his long limbs unfolding like they were on hinges. Gon grinned weakly at him, pushing his own chair out to get to his feet as well. “You're just like him, you know,” he said as they left the coffee shop, Gon's fingers still curled around his cup. Steam rose from it to waft into the evening air.

“Like Ging?” Gon had trouble keeping up with him, he noted. He made himself walk a little slower, not relaxing his grip on his briefcase.

“Yes.”

“Is that... good? Or bad?”

There was no real answer to that question, Kite reflected.


	15. Chapter 15

Six days after Zushi had died, Friday morning, his face finally appeared on the news alongside Wing's with the words “found dead” scrawling underneath. Gon had called him at five in the morning, an hour and a half before he would have shown up anyway. Killua had been dreading that call, dreading the way Gon's voice would waver. He hadn't been asleep, anyway; every time he closed his eyes, he thought of the shock he'd seen in Zushi's at the very end.

“Zushi's, he's...” Gon whispered into the phone, and Killua felt his heart plummet into his chest. He didn't bother getting dressed for school that day; he knew there was no way either of them would go.

Until then, Wing and Zushi had been considered missing. Now, it seemed, enough evidence had been found to proclaim them deceased. He didn't want to think about it – what the police might have seen. What had been left of them? The fact that there was enough to identify them was a miracle. It had to have been Hisoka's doing - a twisted act of mercy, or something else.

Shoving his feet in his shoes, Killua threw his phone in his bag and ran. He hadn't changed his clothes, just wearing a tank top and shorts in the morning chill. It didn't matter how weird it looked; it was too early in the day for many people to be around.

When Gon opened the door, he looked sick. Killua couldn't blame him even a little. With the increased ghoul presence in the district, there was no way the boy hadn't immediately linked it to Zushi. He had to have already realized it the moment he knew Zushi was missing. If it had stayed that way - missing - would that have been better? For Gon to be able to latch on to denial, would that have been a better outcome? It was already over, but Killua couldn't help but wish it wasn't.

Neither of them spoke for a long moment, Killua standing in the doorway with goosebumps rising on his skin, Gon's face dark and sorrowful. Behind them, the news was muted, but Killua could see the images on the screen flash by. The silence stretched out, conveying the message clearly enough. It wasn't as if they could say it out loud, even if they both knew it was the truth.

_Zushi's dead. We're never going to see him again._

Without a word, Gon's hand grabbed his and tugged him inside. The door closed behind them, and Killua leaned his back against it when Gon hugged him. It was too tight, like he was trying to confirm that Killua was really there. Slowly, they slid to the floor together, and the tears that Killua had been holding back since that night fell free to stream down his face and be lost. It was his fault.

“I'm sorry,” he said, his voice choked. It was the closest either of them got to admitting what they had already known. Gon pressed his face against Killua's chest, and he could feel the thin fabric of his shirt grow damp with tears. It was wrong, the world that had made Gon cry. He was wrong. Guilt stabbed through him sharper than any knife. “Gon, I, I'm sorry.”

“I just,” Gon sobbed, his arms tightening their painful grip around Killua's middle. “I talked to him, last week, it was just last week! He was getting his black belt. Killua, I... I thought he was mad at me, but...” His voice was lost, then, in shuddering sobs. Killua gritted his teeth hard, his hand pressing against the back of Gon's head in some attempt at a comforting motion.

There was a quiet electronic humming sound as Mito turned the TV off. Killua's eyes followed her as she set the remote down and knelt beside them. It felt good to have another set of arms around him in that moment. His own mother had never been this warm. Mito didn't say anything, just holding her son to her chest as he screamed and wept.

It seemed like ages before Gon exhausted himself, his sobs dissolving into little hiccups and finally to something closer to whimpers. Killua felt like he had bruises around his torso from how tightly Gon had been holding him, but he made no attempt to dislodge him. It was only when Mito's hands covered Gon's that his grip lessened, and he shuddered harshly as he let go.

“Sorry,” Gon whispered hoarsely, his fingers clenching and unclenching against Killua's back. Mito kissed the back of his head before tugging him gently to his feet. He was unsteady, and Killua thought that without Mito's support, Gon might have fallen. It was only when Mito offered a hand to him as well that he realized she was crying too.

Wordlessly, Killua took the offered hand.

They didn't go to school that day. Killua spent the night, and for once he had an excuse to be violently sick in the bathroom without having to hide it. Gon wrapped his arms around Killua's waist as he brushed his teeth with tears streaming down his face, and they tumbled into bed together in a ball of misery.

It was grief, he knew. It was because they were grieving. That was why Gon wouldn't let go of him, why Killua didn't want him to. That film of misery that covered their thoughts, that was to blame. That was why Gon's lips pressed against his, harsh and forceful. Killua didn't even try to resist, his hands grabbing at Gon's face in some vain attempt to get closer. Gon rolled on top of him, his weight heavy and comforting. Their chests pressed together, and Killua let his lips part under Gon's. His fingers curled in the fabric of Gon's tank top, holding tight. He couldn't breathe for a moment, with Gon's scent filling his nostrils and Gon's tongue in his mouth, Gon's taste...

His hands slammed against Gon's chest, shoving him back roughly. There was a thump as the boy fell off the bed and hit the ground, hard. Gasping for air, Killua wiped the saliva away from his mouth. Gon looked like he'd been winded, but as he stumbled back to his feet there was only misery there. “'m sorry,” he mumbled, like Killua hadn't reciprocated in a split second. Killua wanted to punch himself for that. Ghouls and humans together only equaled ruin. He should have known better, shouldn't have wanted it. But he was selfish, and Gon was selfish.

“No, I...” Killua started, before crawling forward to yank Gon back into the bed. Gon didn't make a move to touch him until Killua's arms wound around him again. He tried to force the taste of Gon out of his mind, to banish it. Gon tasted good. He'd wanted to bite down. “I just... like this, is...”

“I know,” Gon said. Killua grinned weakly. At least Gon didn't know how ignorant he was. He brushed a bit of Gon's hair back from his forehead. “I, I won't do it again, so...”

“I'm not gonna leave.” Like he ever would. Like he could. The fact that he loved Gon burned in the pit of his stomach. What kind of love was it? He didn't know. What did he want? He didn't know. What did  _Gon_ want?

“... you promise?” Gon's eyes were pleading, and he leaned forward to bump their noses together. Though his heart was racing, Killua only nodded. It was their emotions spiraling out of control, he told himself. When morning came around, if he had let Gon go any further than that, they both would have been filled with regret. He couldn't make another mistake that would hurt Gon, no matter how much he thought he wanted it in that moment. If, some other time, it really was what Gon wanted...

Killua's heart ached. He was trying so hard to keep anyone from hurting Gon. He couldn't let himself be the one to do it.

It was four days before they returned to school. Gon didn't try to kiss him again. Killua didn't know if he was glad or not.

 


	16. Chapter 16

The fourth ward was no longer peaceful. That was what she'd decided, staring down the sixteen-year-old boy who stood in front of her. She'd seen the paperwork. He was cleared. There was nothing she could do about it.

“Gon,” Biscuit said firmly, planting her hands on her hips. He was too young for this. The fourth ward, he was from. It had only been a week prior that she'd seen Wing's face in the papers. She remembered when he'd been almost as young as Gon, undergoing the training to become a ghoul investigator. Part of her had been glad when he withdrew from the program.

It had been her own foolishness that made her think it made him safer. If Wing had been able to become an investigator, he and that little boy might not have been dead. In the corner of her mind, she couldn't help but imagine what had happened. She knew Wing, and she knew what he would have done.

Push the boy out of the way. Become a barrier, and give his student the time to escape. Buy as much time as possible. That was what Wing would have done, and so she knew that was what Wing _had_ done. But it hadn't been enough. There had probably been more than one ghoul; they hadn't found any leads as to where the attack had taken place, just the bodies.

If Wing had been an investigator, he probably would have survived. But if he had been an investigator, who was to say he could have been there to protect that boy? A boy about the same age as the one standing in front of her.

“Ossu!” Gon said immediately, his shoulders squaring. Biscuit kept herself from wincing only barely. He was eager to impress, she thought. Or maybe just eager. The glint in his eyes was familiar.

Ging had been about this age when he joined as well, Biscuit reflected. It hadn't been until he'd climbed up the ranks to a first-class investigator that she'd met him. By then he'd been twenty; far too young for such an infuriating level of skill. He was insufferable, too. It only got worse as his rank increased. Now he was out somewhere in the world, a special class investigator who'd left his son behind to pursue his own ambitions. Gon didn't seem to be like that – the insufferable part, at least.

“You may have legal permission to be here,” she started, hating that it was the truth. “But that's not a free ride. You understand that? You'll have to work your way up, and even then I can't guarantee you'll accomplish anything.”

He would, she was sure. Gon wouldn't climb the steps. She could see it in his determined expression. He would run up them at top speed, and hopefully, he wouldn't fall at the top.

“Okay,” she sighed. “Cookie, let's take a look at him.”

* * *

 

“You shouldn't be here,” Leorio said. In front of him, Gon shrugged, and somehow that was even more infuriating and terrifying than his presence in the CCG medical facilities. The boy was jostling his feet as he sat, almost like he was preoccupied. Leorio glanced at the chart that Cookie – Biscuit's assistant – had written up. His eyes narrowed at the information there.

> _Patient name: Gon Freecss_
> 
> _Species: Human_
> 
> _Sex: F_
> 
> _Gender: M_
> 
> _Last menstrual period: 6/2_
> 
> _Date of birth: 5/5/XXXX_
> 
> _Age: 16_
> 
> _Height: 164cm_
> 
> _Weight: 59kg_
> 
> _Blood type: B_
> 
> _RC cell count: 237 as of last count (6/5)_
> 
> _Hair color: Black_
> 
> _Eye color: Brown_
> 
> _Race: Mixed; Japanese, Korean_
> 
> _Notes:_
> 
>   * _High lung capacity_
> 
>   * _Mixed martial arts proficiency_
> 
>   * _History of dysmenorrhea_
> 
>   * _Possible me-_
> 
> 


Leorio looked away, scowling. None of that was really important, except for the age listed there. “You're too young for this.”

“Lots of people have said that,” Gon replied, leaning against the back of his bed. It didn't seem like any of those people had gotten through to him. Even with that sentiment, Gon had clearance to be present in the facility. Nepotism, Leorio thought, disgusted. Gon didn't seem like the kind of person to rely on that. But he would pragmatically use all the resources at his disposal, probably. “I'm allowed, though. I have it in paperwork too if you want to see that. But, Leorio can't kick me out, so it doesn't really matter if I show you or not. I would, though.”

“I bet,” Kurapika said, and Leorio felt his shoulders twitch. He hadn't realized the other man was there at all. Gon beamed, his feet finally stilling. “How are you feeling, Gon?”

“I feel great,” Gon said cheerily. His hands were folded in his lap still, his fingers laced together so he wouldn't fiddle with the IV in his arm. It was a standard saline drip, as Leorio had double- and triple-checked. The fact that it had been there worried him.

When he'd pulled Cookie aside, she'd easily informed him that the IV wasn't actually necessary at that point in time. “Gon's much smaller than you and Kurapika-san,” she'd said as she typed, documenting Gon's blood cell count and thyroid levels. “So it was a precaution considering how much blood we had to draw for all the tests. He's a little anemic right now. We're not trying to slip anything past, we just don't want him to faint.”

“Well, that's good.” Kurapika's voice was calm and genuine, and he pulled a chair over to Gon's bed to sit next to him. Gon's eyes flicked back down to his hands, and he rubbed his thumb over one finger. Something about the gesture was nervous, Leorio thought. It only reminded him that Gon was a child, seven years younger than him.

“Bisky told me,” Gon started, his lips pursing as he concentrated on his words, “That you guys haven't been fighting at all yet.”

“Hm,” Kurapika said, leaning to rest his chin on one hand. “That's true. We've yet to see genuine combat at this point in time. Quinque assignment and training takes time, even without the issue of kakuhou implantation clouding things up for Quinx squad members like myself and Leorio. It'll be several months before you're allowed to even handle a quinque. For now, you'll be observing investigators as they work exclusively. In instances where confrontations are likely to occur, you'll be expected to follow orders and remove yourself from the scene.”

“That's no good,” Gon mumbled, almost to himself. Leorio wasn't sure which part of it he was upset about. Not being able to fight yet? No quinque? Shadowing an investigator? All of them seemed like pretty poor options to be displeased by. Gon didn't seem like the type to follow orders, either.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Leorio asked with a frown, setting his hands down on the rail at the end of the bed. “This isn't fun and games, you know, Gon. This is life or death, so...”

Gon's eyes lifted from his hands to meet Leorio's, and the words he had been about to say died on his lips. “Hey... You remember what ward I live in, right? The fourth.”

Kurapika uncrossed his legs. Leorio's fingers curled around the rail. Shinjuku.

He remembered Kurapika pressing pins into his map in Shinjuku. An orange pin – known ghoul, escaped confrontation. Five, no, six, blue pins – dead ghouls, not the work of an investigator. Black pins littered the south end of the fourth ward – six from the past month and a half alone, since Kurapika had started keeping tabs on things.

The fourth ward bordered on Chimera Ant territory, and that territory was expanding.

Before either of them could respond, Gon was continuing. “I have a lot of people who I care about, people who live there in Shinjuku. My mom, Mito-san, of course, and Killua.” He paused for a second, and for a moment there was something indescribable in his expression. “But there are other people. There are lots of people who live there. You know, I used to do karate. When I was little. Mito-san signed me up, and I had a lot of fun! That was before it stopped being interesting. But my sensei was nice, and I made some friends there. Not friends the way I am with Killua, though. Friends.”

Leorio wasn't sure what that meant, but he didn't want to ask.

“My friend Zushi was in the news the other day,” Gon said calmly, but his eyes were dark and angry. “And my sensei, Wing-san. They don't live in the fourth ward. Not anymore.”

That, Leorio understood.

“Gon,” Kurapika started hesitantly. He seemed to think about it for a moment; seeing himself in Gon, Leorio thought. In so many ways. “What are you trying to accomplish?”

Gon looked at his hands again. “I wasn't sure at first,” he said slowly, lacing his fingers together. “I think... I just want to be able to protect people. The people I love, I don't want to think that they might get hurt. So... Like this, I can be strong enough that h... they can be safe.”

“I see,” Kurapika replied quietly. He reached forward, putting his hand over Gon's. “It's not wrong to want that. But there are other ways to become strong. You don't have to do it this way.”

“I know. I want to do it this way. This way seems... right.”

“Kurapika,” Leorio said, jerking his thumb towards the door of the hospital room. “We need to go if we're going to be on time. Biscuit's files, remember.”

It was a lie, but Kurapika nodded anyway, standing up easily and letting go of Gon's hands. “Of course. Gon, if you'd like, we can have dinner tonight, to talk about things. I'll text you when we're finished with our meeting.”

“Okay!” Gon grinned, the silent anger that had covered him having vanished. He picked his phone up from the nightstand next to the bed, flipping it open to type out a message. Leorio could hear him humming as they left the room, and as soon as they had walked down the hall far enough that the sound faded, Kurapika rounded on him.

“He can't do this,” Kurapika ground out, his teeth gritted together so hard it had to be hurting his jaw. “I'm speaking with Biscuit and Kite right away. It's one thing that he's mentally unprepared, but another entirely that he lied to our faces.”

“You knew he was lying, huh.” Leorio shoved his hands in his pockets roughly, grimacing. Their footsteps echoed against the tile. “I had a hunch. I don't think he realizes he's doing it. Something's going on in his head that doesn't make sense to anyone but him.”

“He's trying to tell us he thinks we what we want to hear.” Kurapika's fingers curled into fists, and he pressed the knuckles of one hand against his mouth. Even as he walked, his mind was clearly working overtime. “He knows something, something about what's going on in the fourth ward.”

“What do you think his angle is?”

“Closeness,” Kurapika replied quietly. “Affection, maybe. A loving relationship. He has someone in the front of his mind, someone he feels like he needs to reach. That's what I think. His father, maybe, or... No, there's no love to be lost between Gon and his father. Someone else.”

“Not friends the way I am with Killua,” Gon had said.

“Christ,” Leorio muttered, covering his mouth with his hand. He didn't say out loud what he'd realized; Kurapika had probably noticed it long before it was even an idea in his head. The powerful emotions of children and the instability of teenagers. Was it relevant? If it factored into Gon's bizarre mindset, maybe...

“It's understandable, natural even. He lost a friend, and he's lashing out now because he's terrified he'll lose another. So now he wants the ability to hold on. All I can really tell is that he's being dishonest. The reasons are always more complex than that.”

Leorio eyed Kurapika with an air of confusion. Something wasn't lining up with Kurapika's words. He hadn't noticed Gon's preoccupation. “He's not afraid of losing another friend. He's run out of friends. Look at that kid, you think he has loads of friends? He's all out.”

That made Kurapika pause, and his lips parted ever-so-slightly as he pondered this. Suddenly, Leorio realized he'd been the more astute one for once. It was a strange reversal. “What do you mean? The boy from the station, Killua, is...”

“You said it yourself. Affection? It's too simple. He's in love.”

The way Kurapika's eyes widened made him look almost comical. Nothing about the situation was funny, though. Leorio stared at the ceiling as he walked to avoid that face. “No,” he breathed, “No, of _course_. I just, sort of...”

“Looked for other reasons. I get it.”

“Mm. Yes. My mistake.” For a moment, Kurapika's breathing slowed as if he was intentionally calming it. Leorio remembered what he shouldn't have heard.

“ _Kurapika? You've been working on that damn map for hours, you should...” Leorio paused, resting his hand on the door frame. Kurapika wasn't working anymore; he was slumped over the table, his head pillowed on his arms. Asleep, for once._

_Sighing, Leorio scratched the back of his neck. It was bad form to leave your teammate sleeping in an uncomfortable position like that, he thought. But if he approached a sleeping Kurapika without any warning he might lose a limb, or worse. He didn't trust his kagune to grow it back, either._

_Slowly, he stepped around the table. If he was cool about it, he could gently wake Kurapika up and get him into his own room to sleep. Kurapika sighed a little, rubbing his cheek against his arm. Like this, he was almost cute. Asleep, without all that pain and anger in his eyes._

“ _Kurapika,” he said quietly. Kurapika's eyebrows twitched a little, and he took a deep, sighing breath._

“ _'s too early,” Kurapika mumbled, clearly not even a little bit awake._

“ _Kurapika.” Leorio ran the back of his finger down his cheek softly. He wasn't even sure why he did it. He brushed a few strands of blond hair away from Kurapika's closed eyes._

“ _Ah, Pairo...”_

_Leorio jerked his hand back, almost like he'd been scalded. The motion was enough to actually wake Kurapika up, and his right eye flashed black and red as it opened. Backpedaling a little, Leorio coughed._

“ _Sorry, I was, er...”_

_Kurapika rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth, his eyes narrowed. He woke up quickly, Leorio noted, enough that there was barely any hint of drowsiness in his expression. Sleep was for those who felt safe. “Making sure I didn't catch a cold by sleeping on the table, no doubt.”_

“ _Er... yeah.”_

“ _Hm.” For a moment neither of them spoke. Kurapika stretched his arms up over his head, his untucked shirt briefly exposing his stomach. “Thank you, I suppose.”_

“ _... you're welcome, I guess.”_

_He didn't ask who Pairo was._


	17. Chapter 17

“That's fine,” Gon was saying, his fingers drumming against the tabletop. Kite glanced between the boy and Biscuit, briefly wondering if he could slip past without confrontation. If he was relaxed about it, he could walk by them, get his quinque and files, and walk out again to resume his casework without being bothered.

Gon worried him sometimes. No, frequently. He was too eerily focused. It hadn't become a real concern yet, but every time Gon went out on observations it could become one. If he could be broken of that habit, Kite knew, Gon could become something astounding. Whether that was good or bad, he couldn't say just yet.

“Kite,” Biscuit called, and his shoulders squared. He knew what was coming next, and he knew that if it were anyone else, he would have gone about his day as usual without caving to the requests of other teams. Not Ging's son, though. That was someone he couldn't just walk away from, as much as he wanted to for the sake of convenience.

With his expression blank, he walked over to the pair. Gon was already beaming, clearly also aware. Biscuit was a first-class investigator. He didn't have to even listen to what she asked of him.

“Fine,” Kite said, before either of them could speak. “Hand him over.”

If he didn't take Gon with him on his investigations, the boy would go with someone else. And Gon never listened to any of the other investigators with the same degree of concentration and respect as he did to Kite. Morel had complained about it loudly. Knov's irritation had been much more subdued. Besides, both investigators had their own partners to watch over as well – Morel had two subordinates, and Knov had one who was almost as much work as two. Kite, whose team operated well on their own, was the best option. He wondered if his own squad was upset by the development, but they were all adults who were capable in their own ways. He could trust them to be left alone, and he couldn't trust Gon. Not yet, at least. Not fully. Gon had some growing up to do still.

So Kite had become the first one to go to every time Gon was approved for field work. He could have declined; the only ones who could give him an order were the CCG's chairman Isaac Netero and Special Class investigators Pariston Hill, Cheadle Yorkshire, and, of course, Gon's own father.

Maybe it was out of some sort of fondness and gratitude for his old partner that Kite was so willing to look after his son. Maybe it was out of sympathy for the kid, chasing his father's shadow. Maybe it was that sometimes, deep inside, he missed Ging.

Whatever the reasoning was, soon Gon was jumping to his feet to walk beside him, and that felt okay.

“Hey, Kite,” Gon said as they walked down the street together – a strange combination, no doubt, with him in his suit and coat, his briefcase at his side, and a teenage boy still wearing his school uniform half-jogging to keep up. Kite had stopped adjusting his pace to match Gon's. If the boy was going to become a part of the CCG's world, he'd have to be able to keep up on his own.

He should have known Gon would show up eventually. From the moment he knew the child existed, he should have known.

“ _I'm so sorry, he's too fast for his own legs,” the woman – no, girl – confessed from where she knelt, tugging the giggling boy up to hold against her hip. She was too young to be his mother, Kite thought. She couldn't have been more than sixteen years old, and the laughing toddler in her arms was at least two. He found himself hoping she wasn't his mother, but the resemblance between them clearly pointed out some sort of relation. “Gon, say you're sorry.”_

“ _Mmkay,” he burbled, waving a chubby hand. “Sorry!”_

“ _It's no problem,” he said, trying not to make eye contact with the child. Those eyes were unnerving in their focus. A kid shouldn't have had that level of concentration._

_He didn't mind the fact that a child had bumped into his leg the moment the door had opened, really. He was more concerned by how familiar the child – and the girl holding him – looked. Kite's fingers gripped the handle of his briefcase a little tighter. He'd been misinformed, he realized. If family was here, then..._

“ _There's a good boy. I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name, Mr...?”_

“ _Kite,” he said, almost gruffly. The little boy looked like Ging – his eyes were bigger and his features softer, but the resemblance was uncomfortably strong. Gon shoved a fat fist into his mouth and grinned around it. Kite winced. Children were something he knew nothing about. “Just Kite. Sorry to disturb you. I'm looking for Ging Freecss.” He already knew that this wasn't where Ging was. The mere fact that there were other Freecss family members there proved it._

_The girl's expression faltered, and then grew angry. She shifted Gon on her hip, leaning against the doorway a little. “Ging. Of course, you're an investigator.” She looked at him for a moment, running her eyes over him critically. “You'd be a first-class investigator, then. Ging's not here. He's never going to be here. But if you give me a moment to put_ Ging's son _to bed, I'll speak with you.” The bitterness in her voice had been palpable._

He thought about Mito Freecss, often. He'd seen her again shortly after he'd been promoted to Assistant Special Class, but never again after that. Ging's cousin, with the same fire in her eyes. He could admire that. Certainly, she deserved that much just for being able to raise the boy that was walking beside him, and to love him like he was her own son.

Until the letter he'd sent to Mito, he hadn't had any other contact with the Freecss family. It had been a formality, really, or something else that he wasn't sure of. Kite had expected Mito to burn the letter and never speak of it to Gon, but somehow he'd found out anyway. Maybe it had been a mistake to send it in the first place. It wasn't his place. Mito Freecss didn't need or want any ghoul investigators in her life, even in the smallest of ways.

“Kite,” Gon said again, louder this time. He had no choice but to listen, and he grunted to show he was paying attention. “Chairman Netero met with me yesterday. He said if you approved, he would allow me to be admitted as a rank three investigator once I've finished being evaluated.”

Kite didn't speak, considering this as he walked. Gon's feet tapped against the sidewalk as he dodged through the crowd that Kite walked straight through. That was another thing Gon would have to learn to do. Walk, and make people clear a path. “And you want to be a rank three investigator?”

He didn't look at the boy, trusting him to keep up.

“I think so,” Gon said, somewhere behind him. “I mean, that's what Ging did, right? He didn't go to the Investigator Training Academy, so he started as a rank three.”

“Correct.” Kite hadn't gone that route. Once he'd decided he would become an investigator, he'd done it the right way and through the right channels. Not many people had the kind of talent necessary to be able to bypass the Academy, and finding out if he did meant taking time he didn't have.

“Then, I think I can do that too.” If nothing else, Gon was earnest. “It'll be different for me, though.”

That gave Kite pause – the confidence with which the boy said it. “Is that so.”

“Yeah!”

“Why is that?”

“Because,” Gon said, bumping aside someone in his path without a care. “I'm going to do it better.”

 


	18. Chapter 18

Gon had been distant. It hurt, but Killua understood. Grieving was something that was different for everyone, and there was no way of knowing how long it would take for it to pass. It might have been something else as well, Killua thought, remembering.

They didn't talk about the kiss. Maybe that was for the best. It didn't stop Killua from recalling it every time Gon spoke. The way his lips moved with each word only reminded him of how they'd moved against his. He'd been dreaming about Gon lately; Gon's lips, Gon's hands, Gon's taste.

“ _Killua,” Gon whispered, his hands running down Killua's biceps. He was on top of Gon, kissing him, their breath mingling together with each gasp and moan. It felt like he was melting away, dripping into Gon with each kiss. Spilling inside of him with saliva._

_His hands were down Gon's pants, fingers inside of him, dripping wet. He had to get closer, further. He had to be inside Gon, so far he could never leave. So far that he'd be there forever, even if he died, even if he was killed, inside Gon. Something of him would remain._

“ _Gon, let me... live in you...”_

_If he was inside Gon, it meant he would be human._

“ _Killua, I love...”_

_Gon's voice warped and shifted; deeper, more masculine. The panting emotion in it was gone, replaced by something empty. Scared, he tried to pull away, but he was stuck fast, like he'd been glued in place. When he yanked his arms back, it was useless. His fingers turned soft and pliable, stretching like bread dough. “No,” he thought. If he lost his form, he couldn't hold Gon... But Gon was..._

_Against his chest and neck, Killua felt blood spurt and gush. An oily, slick kagune, bursting through Gon's chest, wet with his blood. It moved upwards, parting the skin of his throat and then his face like it was soft butter. Pale, thin hands peeled the flesh away, revealing another face beneath it that didn't belong to the boy he loved._

“ _I love you, Killu.”_

“ _No,” he screamed, as his own body dissolved into the air. “NO!”_

Every time it happened, he woke up in tears, and hungry.

“Killua,” Gon said, running his thumbs across his knuckles. Killua wanted to reach out and touch his hands. They hadn't touched in any way since that night, not even brushing their shoulders. He missed the feeling of Gon's skin. But lately, Gon had looked so different. Firmer, somehow. Harder. He didn't know if he would feel the same way beneath his fingertips. “Do you think I'm a bad person for not being sad anymore?”

Killua licked his lips. The gesture drew Gon's eyes to them, and for a moment they both made a conscious effort to avoid each others' gaze. The tips of his ears felt hot. He didn't need to ask for clarification. “No. When... when things, bad things, happen, it's part of human nature for you to try and cope in whatever way possible. If it means pushing away all the feelings associated with the bad thing, your body will do that, to protect you.”

“I know. I just... I feel like, even though I know that, I should still feel sad.” Gon looked so tired, lately. He rubbed at his shoulders like he was sore, rolled his neck even more than usual. Gon always had stiff shoulders, but this was something else. Stress.

They both had things to be stressed about, even if some of them were vastly different things. He watched Gon take a bite of curry, and it reminded Killua to eat as well. He didn't want to. Curry tasted the way dog shit looked. He swallowed without the barest hint of discomfort. Gon sighed.

“Yeah,” Killua mumbled, looking down at the table between them. He pushed a few carrots that he'd picked out of the curry across his plate. Mito was working late that evening, so she wasn't there to mildly scold him for avoiding his vegetables. He could smell the sharp scent of iron in the air already, and it put him on edge more than he had been. It was hard not to look to the source of the smell; Gon was uncomfortable enough already without knowing that Killua could sniff out when he was menstruating. He didn't want to think about it. It only reminded him of the dreams.

They ate in silence for a while, the only sound in the room from their mouths and plates. Killua chewed a bit of onion, rolling it between his teeth. The texture of it was so strange. Vegetables felt strange in his mouth in general. Things he wasn't meant to eat.

Later, he'd eat something else, something his body was able to handle without becoming violently ill. Pragmatism and his moral code had finally found a comfortable middle-ground, and he had a new routine. Kill the ghouls who attacked humans, to slow the predation in the fourth ward. Make careful selections of their kills for his own sake – leaving enough that the bodies could be identified and returned to their families to be cremated, to give them closure. That was only fair.

Make less careful selections of the ghouls themselves. Cannibalism wasn't as frowned on in ghoul society as it was for humans, but it still remained a rare occurrence simply because of how much work it was to kill a ghoul compared to a human.

But he was killing the ghouls anyway. There was no reason not to dispose of the bodies that way. It didn't matter that ghoul flesh was stringy and lean or that it tasted bad. He could eat it, digest it, and that was all that mattered. They were people who had already killed, so they had to know what to expect. It was still better to scavenge suicide victims, he thought, but that wasn't a sustainable way to live.

With that, he'd never run out of food.

Gon glanced at him for a moment, before taking a long sip of water.

“It's wrong of me to think this,” Gon said, setting his glass down. His eyes were downcast, and Killua felt his stomach lurch in a way that had nothing to do with the human food inside of it. Gon was palpably miserable, in a way that Killua had never seen before. “I think I'm bad to think it, too. I shouldn't even say this.”

“Gon, I...”

Gon's eyes lifted up again, and they were shiny with tears. “Killua. It's awful. What happened. It's awful, it's so awful.” Killua wanted to stand, to throw his chair away and wind his arms around Gon, to whisper, “I love you, please don't cry,” in his ear. Instead, he sat frozen in place, staring. “Killua. Killua, I'm so glad it wasn't you.”

 


	19. Chapter 19

“I hate the idea of anonymous tips,” Leorio said stubbornly, sliding forward in his seat. Kurapika ignored him, tapping his finger against the map in front of him. “You never know who they're from or whether you can trust them.”

“Certainly so,” he replied. His phone buzzed, and he glanced at it briefly to ascertain the caller before considering answering. Leorio's eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms over his chest. For a moment, they both stared at the phone together.

“You gonna get that? I won't be offended.”

“No.”

“Who is it?”

Kurapika slid his finger down the map from west Suginami to south Setagaya. Black pins littered the area in a patternless blob. “It's Gon.”

“And you're not going to answer?”

“Of course not. I'm working.” Truth be told, he didn't want to talk to Gon at the moment. The boy was grouchy, not just a matter of being denied the things he wanted. Kurapika could sympathize, but not much. He hadn't been sixteen in a long time.

“You haven't done anything besides stare at files you already read today.” Things were easier, Kurapika reflected, without Leorio acting like a nagging housewife. He let his kakugan activate for a brief moment, and Leorio rolled his own eyes. They both knew the older man was right, no matter how frustrating it was for Kurapika to even consider admitting that. “So you're ignoring him?”

“He's menstruating,” Kurapika said, tugging a blue pin out of the map. He was lucky enough to no longer have that concern. It was dangerous when it came to fighting ghouls, who could smell the blood on him. The odor of shed uterine lining and blood was far from subtle. “He's looking for any excuse to vent his frustrations.”

“Again?” Leorio counted on his fingers for a moment, squinting. “It's really been that long, huh.”

“He'll have to learn to cope.” The last time had been during extensive blood work, and Gon had been astoundingly short-tempered considering how jovial he typically was. Anemia was a powerful thing to deal with. Kurapika abruptly recalled the way Gon's voice had cracked when he demanded to be given his cell phone so he could text Killua, even though he was too woozy to sit up. Gon's biology didn't agree with him. He'd slammed a plastic cup down on the bedside table so hard it had shattered into pieces and ignored all attempts to scold him in favor of typing out a cheerful message. Things like that slid off Gon like water, Kurapika had noted. “Even with Ging's permission, he's not legally allowed access to hormone treatments until he turns twenty, and without hormone treatments, something like a hysterectomy is out of the question.”

“I see,” Leorio said, clearly not seeing. “There's just so much, huh.”

“Yes.” Kurapika slid a sheet of paper back into a folder and tugged another out. Phantom Troupe number eleven, drawn on a wall in ward two. They were in human-dominated areas lately. “If you'd like more information, I can direct you.”

“Yeah?”

“Towards the internet. I am not a database.”

“You're a real piece of work, you know that?” Leorio huffed, tapping his foot in annoyance. Snorting, Kurapika scribbled a note onto the paper in front of him – _3_ _rd_ _CCG incident bearing #11; 1_ _st_ _Minato (case file #659), 2_ _nd_ _Ota, North (case file #663)_.

He let the pen rest on the paper for a moment, before continuing. _14 casualties; 6 civilian, 8 CCG investigators. (All rank 1) No survivors, witnesses._

He pulled the files for the previous two incidents out, laying them in front of him. The recent incident in the second ward was the most concerning, given the closeness to the CCG main office. But the one that made him angry was ward eleven. As if they hadn't done enough damage in Ota.

The Phantom Troupe had a pattern, of course. Kurapika glanced at the pin in Minato. He hadn't been able to locate any information concerning the missing parties in that particular incident just yet. Digging up the files from two months back had been surprisingly difficult despite the notoriety of the Phantom Troupe – the victim's value was unknown. Ota's incident had been three weeks prior, an actress who had appeared on a talk show a few days before her disappearance. It wasn't a mystery as to how she'd been kidnapped. The massacre there spelled it out clearly enough.

He wondered how many pieces of her had been sold, and which of them had already been consumed.

That was what they did, after all; found unique humans to capture, and then sell the parts that they didn't want to the highest bidder. It didn't matter if they were famous or not, though Kurapika was sure those body parts sold for higher prices. It was the physically unique that they wanted.

His eyes slid over to Leorio, and he sighed. If he could be sure of anyone being safe from that, it was Leorio. Every time he looked in the mirror, though, he remembered. Every time someone stared at him on the street, he remembered. Blond hair. Light, tawny eyes. Narrow features and pale skin. Foreign.

Unique.

Roughly, he shoved a red pin into the map.

 


	20. Chapter 20

“Hey,” Gon said abruptly, looking up at him from his seat on the train. Killua had shoved him into it as he always did around that time of the month – ever since the day Gon had lost his footing due to being lightheaded, Killua had kept careful note. It hadn't ever happened again, but he still did it three years later.

The times Gon needed him the most were the times it was hardest to be around him.

“Yeah.” Killua adjusted the strap of his bag, mostly for the sake of having something to do with his hands. Gon's own bag was in his lap, almost like a shield. He was squished up against the rail, but that never seemed to bother him. For a moment it seemed like Gon didn't know what to say, but then he grinned. It seemed almost surreal, seeing Gon smile like that again. He hadn't seen that smile since Zushi's death, several weeks ago now.

“Tomorrow's your birthday.”

That gave Killua pause. His eyes narrowing, he dug out his cell phone to look at the date.

_Wed, July 6_ _th_ _3:29PM,_ the screen read, in bright white letters.

“Shit, you're right.” It made Gon laugh, and Killua felt his cheeks flush a little. He'd lost track of time so easily lately. It was no doubt due in part to the fact that he was out late almost every night, lurking in dark corners and on rooftops, and generally doing things that could be described as “skulking”.

Roofs were easier. Due to the malleable properties of the RC cells that made up his kagune, it was a simple matter to utilize them to adhere to the sides of buildings in order to climb. He'd learned that as a child, but it had taken a little while to get used to doing it again, especially with his higher body weight. Killua had misjudged it at first, and there were a few palm-sized chunks of concrete missing from buildings in the area as a result.

He could do it now without a second thought, though.

“You wanna do something special?” Gon's feet tapped against the floor of the train car, and he chewed on his lip gently. Killua shrugged, making a noncommittal noise. Birthdays had never been a cause for celebration in his family, for whatever reason. They were just a time stamp denoting another year had passed. Gon disagreed. “Sixteen is a big deal, I think!”

“Yeah? It wasn't such a big deal to you two months ago when _you_ turned sixteen.” Killua kicked Gon's shin gently, not enough to actually hurt. Gon stuck his tongue out with a scowl. It wasn't wrong; Gon's birthday had been pretty lax for someone as bold and loud as he was. Killua had wondered why, but nothing came to mind other than that Gon just didn't feel like it. Gon was fickle in that way. “I mean, cake, right? Totally need cake. But like... it's a school day, and it's not like anyone would throw a party.”

“Hmm.” Gon thought about this for a moment, his knee bouncing. He seemed sort of uncomfortable in a way. His eyes darted around the train car, almost like he was surveying the people inside. “I sort of figured you wouldn't want that, but like... We could still do something! Together, I mean.”

“I guess,” Killua replied, sliding the hand that wasn't holding the rail into his pocket. It wasn't like he really wanted to do anything other than sleep, but that wasn't an option with class in the morning. Something that felt like an umbrella jabbed into his side, and he whipped his head around to scowl, but whoever it belonged to was gone already. Gon folded his fingers together, fiddling with his thumbs. “What did you have in mind?”

“I, I dunno,” Gon stammered, licking his lips nervously. “See a movie, or... go to the arcade, maybe... if you want...”

It slowly dawned on him that Gon was asking him out. He swallowed hard, glad that the bustle of the train's other passengers disguised the sound. “Y-yeah,” Killua stuttered, inwardly cursing his voice for cracking. He didn't meet Gon's eyes, knowing his cheeks were red. But Gon wasn't looking at him either, choosing instead to stare at his bag with the tips of his ears brightly flushed. “Arcade, sounds... cool.”

“Yeah?” Gon's shoulders sagged almost imperceptibly in relief. He wondered if Gon was remembering what had gone on between them, if Gon had understood what he'd meant with his words back then. Killua realized he was smiling. Was he reading too much into it? Gon's antsy behavior, how he didn't want to keep eye contact when normally he held it for far too long. It wasn't as if he'd ever been so nervous about asking Killua to do things before. And...

Gon had been the one to kiss him, after all. Before, he could believe it was due to emotions running high, but this was different. The train slid to a halt at the station, and Killua curled his fingers around the strap of his bag. Gon got to his feet almost reluctantly, rubbing at his forearm.

“Yeah,” he said, grinning at Gon. For a moment neither of them spoke, just looking at one another with nervous but happy smiles on their faces. And then the train doors slid open and the bustling crowd gave them no choice but to break the moment off.

They parted ways on the platform, each headed a different way to go home. Killua thought he could feel Gon's eyes on him still even as they walked away from one another, but every time he turned his head for a look, his gaze found Gon's back. Eventually, though, the other boy had vanished from his sight, and he was alone on the sidewalk.

With his heart pounding, Killua started to run. The nervous excitement swirling in his gut reached an unbearable crescendo, and he wanted to jump, to fly, to shout. Tomorrow was his birthday, and that didn't matter. He'd be sixteen and he couldn't care less. Killua couldn't stop grinning, so wide it made his cheeks hurt. When was the last time he'd smiled like that? Smiling so hard his face felt sore was something that hadn't happened in so long.

When he opened the door to his apartment Hisoka wasn't there, and that was even better.

Throwing his bag on the table with too much force, Killua leaned heavily against the door to close it behind him. A date. He was going on a date with Gon. It was the same sort of thing they'd always done, but now it was different. Killua pressed a hand to his chest, taking deep breaths in an attempt to steady his heartbeat. Thursday, so the matter of what to wear wasn't even a concern. Just all the things they'd done before, with a different filter applied.

A date with Gon. His face felt warm, and his chest was tight. Would it be okay to hold Gon's hand? They'd already kissed. It had to be okay. Keeping his breathing calm, he made his way into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water from the tap. It tasted like metal and he didn't care.

What an innocent desire that was, Killua realized with only a twinge of embarrassment. Despite the bizarre, uncomfortable dreams he'd been having, the thing he thought about was wanting to hold Gon's hand. Somehow, it was reassuring, but it only reminded him of the stark reality of the situation. There were all sorts of obstacles to a relationship; they were teenagers, they were both boys, they were best friends. And most important was the one that stuck in his mind like it had been coated in super glue and pressed against his brain.

He was a ghoul, and Gon wasn't.

Gon was human, and he couldn't be human.

“Makes you think, maybe, we could co-exist!” Gon had said on the platform that day, almost two months ago.

“Onii-chan, do you think we could be friends with humans?” Alluka had said, almost six years ago.

He remembered Zushi's face, streaked with tears, eyes wide with terror.

The grin on his face faded away, and all that was left was the pain in his cheeks.

 


	21. Chapter 21

“Kurapika-san,” a voice said, and Kurapika felt his heart skip a beat as he opened his eyes. He'd dozed off in his seat, it seemed, and the realization embarrassed him a little. When he looked up, the squat, bald woman in front of him smiled a little. The scars on the top of her head made the skin there shiny and faintly pink, but they were old scars. Years old, he thought. They looked like burn scars.

There was no point in staring, though. Kurapika knew what it was like to be stared at. He let his gaze slide to her face, taking that in instead. Eye contact was better, he thought, even if sometimes it made him uncomfortable.

“Yes. I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention.” He could have lied, but it was easier to admit to it. Saving face wasn't really important. He knew he'd been briefly introduced to the woman, but he couldn't remember her name. They'd really only passed each other in the halls, he thought. “You're from Dalzollene's squad, correct?”

She had noticeable buck-teeth when she spoke. “That's right. My name is Senritsu.” She didn't seem to fault him for not remembering. Senritsu's voice was very soothing, Kurapika thought. In general, she seemed soothing.

“Senritsu. Do you need something?” Even as he said the words, she was offering him a file. Blinking, he accepted it and peered in at the contents. It took a moment before he realized what he was looking at, and then his chest felt tight. He slid the papers out with carefully-steadied fingers, spacing them out on the table.

_Anonymous tip from source 17_

Seventeen was the informant who left notes in the potted plants in the lobby of the second ward's offices. They signed each paper with a star and a teardrop, but had never been caught on any security cameras. That was fine in his opinion; if the source was spooked, they were less likely to continue dropping their hints. Though, given the contents of the notes they left, Kurapika doubted they were even the slightest bit nervous about the information they were sharing. He almost suspected source seventeen was enjoying the exercise. It didn't matter to him what the motivations were, though. The information was enough.

_Spiders are spinning a web around the mafia's princess._

Kurapika read the note twice – a photocopy, which told him someone had compiled an extra file. He glanced up at Senritsu, who had taken a seat across the table from him and was sitting calmly with her fingers laced together. She smiled at him, gently, and he let his eyes drop back to the files.

Underneath the copy of the note, there was a picture and short description of a young girl. No, she only looked young. According to the information written under her name, she was only a year younger than he was, making her a legal adult if only barely. Her round face and large eyes made her seem younger, but perhaps it was also the childish expression on her face.

_Neon Nostrade_ , he read. The daughter of suspected mafioso Light Nostrade, who was operating out of Edogawa. Age twenty, unemployed. He flipped through the papers – information about her father, the rough location of their residence. It was considered an invasion of privacy to be more specific, surely. There was a delicate line between protecting said privacy and protecting lives when they might be at stake. Kurapika wondered what was more important to Light Nostrade.

She certainly fit the criteria. A mafia daughter in Japan was nothing if not unique.

Spiders spinning a web. Phantom Troupe. It wasn't as if he was secretive about his specialized interest in the Troupe, after all, so he didn't question how Senritsu knew. The bigger question was why she'd chosen to pass the file on, even a copy of it.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. Senritsu only nodded at him, her eyes closed. A serene woman. It was admirable, maintaining that in an environment like the CCG. Probably, it was something he should keep in mind. Remaining calm could be vital when it came to fighting. “May I ask what prompted you to give me this?”

“It's information you wanted, isn't it?” she replied, her folded fingers loosening a little. “I thought you might appreciate it. I've heard that the bureau investigators have been less than forthcoming with allowing you access to files.”

“That's correct,” Kurapika admitted, closing the file and setting it on the table between them. The Quinx were considered with suspicion by the majority of the CCG, and as a result he was placed under a significantly higher amount of scrutiny when requesting files and access to other things. He'd been informed that it would take a while to pull up and copy the files, and Kurapika knew it had been a lie.

It had taken until very recently for him to be assigned a quinque, despite the necessity of it given his high-risk work. The whole purpose of the Quinx squad was to fight on a more equal level with ghouls, and yet there was a disconnect between that and the level of trust he was given. 

It wasn't new to him, though. Ever since he'd moved inland he'd seen that kind of hyper-awareness of him. Blonde hair and pale skin drew attention even in a place like Tokyo, even though he was a native citizen who had been born there. It was just another thing to deal with, and Kurapika had plenty of practice with it by now. There wasn't any use in being frustrated. He wouldn't get anything productive out of it.

“You have a reason for wanting it, I'm sure.” Senritsu gestured at the file, and Kurapika hesitated before nodding. “I thought so. If it helps you, I'm glad.”

He thought, normally, that he would have been suspicious of that. But what would anyone gain from giving him files that any investigator should be able to access? Somehow, he thought she just was... nice. A nice person. A compassionate person. “Thank you,” Kurapika said again, running his thumb along the side of the papers. “Please, can I offer you something? Coffee, maybe.”

“Oh, no, that's quite alright. I've worked with the bureau investigators before. I understand that they can sometimes be less helpful to newcomers, and what constitutes a newcomer to them varies from person to person.” She seemed a little wistful, actually, as she got to her feet again. He wondered how long she had been a newcomer to them. “Well, then. If you speak with the chairman, I'm sure he'd be accommodating. You want to be involved with the case, don't you?”

For a moment something jolted through his heart with a pang. Even if it was only a hint, the tiniest step forward, he had to take it. Pairo's face swam into his mind, and he thought about his parents waving to him as he stepped on the ferry, never to see him again in life. He thought about swinging his legs as he sat on the dock with Pairo, laughing together. He thought about tugging his mother's hand as they walked, thought about being carried on his father's shoulders. He thought about his grandfather, gruff and harsh and devastatingly protective of his family. He thought about everyone in that moment, everyone he had left behind for what he thought would be a short amount of time, but had ended up being forever.

And he thought about the bodies that had never been recovered. “Yes,” he said, falteringly.

Very, very carefully, Senritsu reached out and placed her hand over his. “Then, I'm sure you'll be given permission.” It was an unspeakably comforting touch, but just as brief as the touch of a butterfly's wings. “Good luck, Kurapika-san.” And then she was waddling away on short legs, and he found himself getting to his feet without thinking about it. 

“Wait,” Kurapika said, and she did, turning to look at him again. “I... you don't need to use an honorific. Just... Kurapika, is fine.”

Even when she was beaming, he wouldn't have called Senritsu beautiful. Her teeth showed when she smiled, and the way the corners of her eyes crinkled up made her look like she was squinting. But it didn't matter. That was something that never really mattered. There were other things that made up a person's worth. The important thing was what made a smile form, not how it looked.

“Kurapika, then.”

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIG NOTE: this chapter is very gross and features somewhat graphic descriptions of menstruation and the consumption of human flesh. Also, something that sort of edges into non-explicit depiction of underage sexuality. Please proceed with caution.

“You need to eat, right?” Gon's voice was low and quiet, filled with something Killua couldn't place. His head felt stuffy; was he drunk? “Ghouls don't get drunk, just sick,” he chastised himself mentally, wiping at his mouth despite that. His fingers came away clean – no blood, no meat. It was odd. Gon looking at him that way was odd. The other boy's cheeks were flushed and his eyes were lidded.

“Gon, what-” he started, before Gon's hands were on his head, pushing him down to his knees. Had he been standing? Killua wasn't sure. They were in Gon's room – it didn't look the way he remembered it, but he knew instinctively that it was where they were.

Gon was forcing him down on his back, crawling on top of him. It wasn't as if Killua even considered resisting – Gon was something he never wanted to resist, after all. His knees brushed Killua's elbows as he moved forward, leaning so that their noses almost touched. Hands pressed against his chest, fingers spread wide. “Killua, you like me, right?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, angling his head upwards in a vain attempt to kiss Gon. He wanted to taste the other boy's lips again. Gon pulled away from him with a smile, leaving him frowning in return. “Gon, no, let me...”

“If you're going to kiss me,” Gon laughed, sliding a hand down his own stomach to linger at the fly of his jeans, “I'd rather it be... here.”

Killua swallowed hard. Suddenly, everywhere Gon's hands were, the fabric beneath them eroded away like his fingers were made of acid. Gon couldn't do that, he thought numbly, somewhere in the back of his mind. At least, he couldn't remember Gon ever being able to do that. Surely, Gon would have mentioned something like that. “I,” he said, even as his eyes fixed on the space between Gon's legs.

“You need to eat, right?” Gon asked again, looking almost bashful for a moment. There was blood smeared on his inner thighs, and Killua couldn't help the way his mouth watered at the sharp smell. He licked his lips, looking up at Gon. “If it's Killua, I'm okay with it.”

A voice in his head whispered at him to do it, to do it to Gon. Killua wasn't sure what “it” was, but his body was moving on its own, his hands finding Gon's thighs and ass to hold on to him. He slid himself forward until his head was where he wanted it, between Gon's legs. “Gon,” he whispered, and the moment he opened his mouth it was filled with the taste of blood. Gon's blood.

It was Gon's blood, Gon's flesh dripping out between his thighs and into Killua's mouth. He licked it up greedily, sucking down the slimy chunks and sighing in pleasure. Gon tasted so good. He wanted to tell him that, to tell him how good it was, but he couldn't pull his lips away long enough to say the words. Instead, he worked his tongue inside, delighting in the way Gon shuddered and the fluids that spurted into his mouth. Killua felt his eyelashes flutter. His cock was hard, straining against his jeans.

“It's gross,” Gon said, even as he ground his hips against Killua's face. “It feels gross, and I hate it, so take it all out of me. There's no point to it, Killua, so... Give me a reason for it to exist. I'll go through with it, if it's for Killua's sake...”

He could feel Gon's muscles tensing around his tongue, like the boy was squeezing down. It brought another gush of liquid, filling his mouth and dripping down his chin. Gon was warm and wet inside, comfortable. He could stay like this, he thought, between Gon's thighs. If he stayed there, if they stayed like this, neither of them had to think about anything else. The blood on his tongue was so thick it was almost choking him – congealed and filled with sloughed skin. Soft, pulpy chunks, breaking apart in his mouth and sliding smoothly down his throat. Was it okay to stay this way? With Gon, drinking down his menstrual fluid, making him climax with his lips and tongue. His erection throbbed almost painfully, but he didn't pay it any attention.

“It's like you're a baby,” Gon whispered, and Killua groaned. He understood it instinctively; every ghoul's first meal came that way, from between someone's legs.

Not like this, though. A different kind of flesh. Killua couldn't remember it – his own, Alluka's, even Kalluto's first meals were all a vague blur, but his parents had told him what to do. Rip the placenta and chew it into a paste, mixing with saliva until it was drinkable. Until their teeth came in – so much sooner than a human child – it was that and milk. If he had a child, Killua thought, shivering, if he had a child, he would know how to do it. It was so important. It was important, for a baby...

“Don't do it.” Gon's voice was trembling, and tears were dripping down his face to splash against Killua's forehead and hair. He didn't want that, Killua thought. Neither of them wanted that. It was wrong. But between him, and Gon – his blue eyes and Gon's black hair, pale skin and a beaming smile, that child would look almost like...

_“Don't forget about me, Onii-chan.”_

Killua woke with vomit on his tongue and an erection tenting his boxers, and rolled out of bed to retch on the floor. His arms shook with the effort of keeping himself upright, to prevent himself from falling in his own vomit.

“Fuck,” he whispered, drool and vomit dripping down his chin. The smell of it burned his nostrils, and he burped out a mouthful of bile. It splattered wetly against the carpet. It would take too long to clean up, but he couldn't make himself crawl to the bathroom. They were sick, the things he dreamed about. He was sick. It wasn't even as if he'd eaten something wrong for once – it was just his own mind spinning in revolting circles.

Killua was so tired of throwing up. Panting for breath, his eyes found the faint glow of his clock, proudly proclaiming it to be 4:47AM. Too early for him to need to be awake, but too late for him to go back to sleep. If nothing else, he would have time to deal with the mess he'd made.

He was still hard, he noted almost clinically. That would have to be dealt with as well if it was stubborn enough to last through a spell of puking. Killua sighed despondently, forcing himself to his feet. He'd have to shower, even though he'd done so only a few hours before after stumbling into his apartment with blood in his teeth. How long ago had it been? Before midnight – he remembered noting the time shortly prior to collapsing in bed, because it meant it wasn't his birthday yet.

“Happy birthday to me,” Killua muttered, stripping his clothes off miserably and climbing into the shower. The water hadn't finished heating, lukewarm on his skin. It made him shiver a little, and he leaned against the shower wall. His apartment didn't have a bath, something that he remembered Gon expressing shock at. But he'd never been that fond of baths in the first place, so it didn't matter. Sighing, he let his fingers wrap around his erection. The only consolation was that he hadn't messed his underwear dreaming about...

Gon's face slammed back into his mind, and his stomach lurched again even as he jerked himself off roughly. He couldn't think about Gon while he was doing this. It wasn't fair. Killua tried to think about nothing, to clear his mind of anything besides the feeling of his own hand, but he already knew there was no point. It was sick, what he'd dreamed about, but the worst part had been how utterly, genuinely content it had made him. What did it say about him?

 _“If it's Killua, I'm okay with it.”_ It sounded just like something Gon would actually say. If nothing else, the version of him that had appeared in Killua's dream talked like the real one. _“If it's for Killua's sake.”_

_“Killua, you like me, right?”_

Killua shuddered hard, spilling himself against the wall of the shower with Gon's voice echoing in his head. He did. He liked Gon, so much that it ached in the pit of his stomach and stabbed in his throat every time he swallowed. How would he face Gon today, after that?

He was hungry, which made things even worse. Gon made him so hungry, in more ways than one. Killua decided he hated puberty, watching the milky white of semen swirl down the drain. It was messed up, dirtying Gon in his head. Even if Gon wanted to be with him, it didn't mean anything about what kind of relationship the other boy wanted physically, if any.

When Killua finally forced himself out of the shower, the sun had almost fully risen. He shuffled to the kitchen with his towel around his waist. If he got back into bed, he'd fall asleep again, so the only thing he could do was start to get ready for the way. Feeling like a zombie was something he would have to deal with.

Once he'd eaten and started pulling his clothes on, Killua noted that his phone was flashing. When he flipped it open, it was exactly what he expected – a “Happy birthday” message from Gon.

< happy birthday, Killua!!|

<I know it's realy early, or, maybe it's late??? sorry if I woke you up|

< but it's midnight, so it's your birthday!!|

< happy birthday.|

For a moment, all he could do was smile. 


	23. Chapter 23

“We're going out today,” Kurapika said with a hint of a grimace. His fingers drummed against the table. “Or, rather, I am going out today. With Dalzollene's squad, on provisional grounds. You're staying here.”

“Right,” Leorio replied, typing something out on his laptop. The screen was angled away, so Kurapika couldn't have read it even if he wanted to. It was probably something utterly incomprehensible to him – Leorio was too frequently wrapped up in medical studies. Mentally, he scolded himself. Leorio's priorities were very different from his own, and it was unfair to be judgmental of them. “The recon thing. That's today, isn't it? The tip one.”

“Yes.” The tips had been coming in at sporadic intervals. It was too easy to assume they were a trap, but the last one had panned out in a way. They hadn't picked it up, but just as the anonymous note had stated, the Phantom Troupe had appeared in the third ward to spirit away a young politician. It wasn't entirely safe, Kurapika knew, but the lead was worth investigating. Biscuit had agreed with his judgment, as he'd found out a mere twenty minutes before when she'd kicked his door open and yelled at him to gear up. She hadn't called on Leorio, which was best. It was a miracle that he was allowed to go himself, but he wouldn't kill himself looking for hidden meanings behind it. It was an opportunity, one he hadn't been expecting to get so quickly.

Leorio closed his laptop firmly, spinning his chair around. “Kurapika.”

Kurapika let his eyes lift from the papers in front of him. He knew what Leorio would say, or at least suspected it. It was getting easier to predict what Leorio would do and say in particular situations, even if he wasn't as astute at determining the reasoning behind his actions as he'd like. Leorio was emotionally driven – more so than Kurapika had been as a child. He couldn't remember any logic to the wild emotions he'd felt as a young boy. All of it was overshadowed by the memories of Pairo gently reining him in. Kurapika couldn't afford to be so unrestrained anymore. “I'm not cleared to engage in combat in this particular instance unless it is in defense.”

“... right.” Leorio's index finger tapped against his knee. “Then, you're headed to the seventh ward to stake out the tip. What was it again? A yakuza daughter, or something? Risky.”

“It's standard for the Troupe,” Kurapika said coldly, signing his name on the top sheet before whisking it away to reveal the one beneath it. Another signature, two places to initial. Paperwork was monotonous. Leorio scowled at him. There was no point in keeping the information secret, and it was probably to his advantage to share it. If nothing else, it would make Leorio stop making that face. He hated it. “Neon Nostrade. That's her name.”

“That doesn't sound like yakuza.”

“She's not yakuza.”

For a moment, Leorio only looked at him. He had been expecting that answer, Kurapika realized. Leorio wasn't a moron; he could connect the dots. In some ways, he was much more astute than Kurapika was, though he was loathe to admit it. Everyone had their strengths and weaknesses.

“Mafia, then,” he said quietly. Kurapika nodded a little.

“Probably.” Definitely, but it hardly mattered what she was. If there was any degree of legitimacy to the tip that the Troupe had its eyes on her, that was reason enough to move. Take the girl into protective custody, and with that, also secure her as a low-grade hostage to be used against her family. It was dirty, Kurapika thought, and that was what made it lucrative even if the Troupe itself didn't appear.

He'd met Dalzollene's team before, besides Senritsu. They were understandably leery of him, but there was little he could do to avoid that. As a Quinx member, that attitude was to be expected. It didn't bother him, as long as it didn't get in the way of efficiency.

Biscuit leaned against the doorway, frowning at them. “You're not protesting,” she said to Leorio, who only sighed and shook his head. Kurapika signed the last form with a smooth motion, setting his pen down. The CCG supplied apartment they lived in was too spacious, he thought sometimes. Kurapika had heard the woman's footsteps echo against the empty walls long before she'd appeared. Everything echoed, really.

“I assume that Dalzollene's team has assembled, then,” he said, pushing himself away from the table and standing. Leorio's eyes tracked him as he strode across the room. The gaze was heavy on his back. Something about Leorio in general was heavy. Kurapika didn't like it.

“They're waiting on you,” Biscuit said, her hands on her hips. She wasn't going to be able to keep an eye on him, and it obviously bothered her. The level of concern wasn't warranted, Kurapika thought. He'd displayed enough control to have his presence allowed in the first place despite still being considered a second-class investigator. Everyone knew he was more capable than his rank implied at this point.

“Understood. I'll be off, then.”

“... see you,” Leorio said quietly, his forehead creased by his frown. There was no point in dwelling on Leorio's unhappiness. Especially now, when such a distraction could reflect badly on him, or worse. Kurapika forced it from his mind as he walked down the hall to the front door. Biscuit followed him, her displeasure obvious. Sometimes he wondered if the woman was the victim of some misplaced maternal instinct regarding them. It would be a shame. He didn't know about Leorio's situation, but he had his own mother to think about, and Biscuit wasn't his mother.

The graves needed to be tended to, Kurapika thought distantly. After today, he would visit. His mother, his father, the elder; seventeen graves to pay his respects to once more. Flowers to lay, water to pour, words to speak. People to remember.

“ _Kurapika,” Pairo said breathlessly, pressing a hand to his chest as he caught his breath. “Slow down!”_

“ _No way,” he laughed, even as he spun lightly to face Pairo, reaching out to snag the other boy's hands. It let him tug Pairo forward, guiding his steps. “If we don't go now, we won't get there before the sun starts going down.”_

_He did slow his pace a little, walking with Pairo's hand in his. Sometimes Kurapika had to chastise himself for Pairo's sake. It wasn't his fault that he couldn't always keep up. But still, his hand was warm and he held on tight._

“ _You know,” Kurapika said as they walked, their feet throwing up little dust clouds on the path below, “Soon we'll be old enough to take the ferry on our own, no matter what ojii-san says. You'd think, with the way he talks, there's ghouls everywhere on the main land! I think that's crap.”_

“ _Mhm,” Pairo agreed, nodding his head. “But, you know he only says it because he's worried about us.”_

“ _Well, if we see a ghoul, I'll fight it. I'll have to, to keep everyone safe.” The way Pairo laughed made his cheeks turn red, and he yanked a little too hard. He regretted it as soon as Pairo stumbled. “... sorry.”_

“ _I know. I forget sometimes, too.” Pairo rubbed at one eye like it itched, and Kurapika wondered if he hadn't taken his eye drops. He let his hand fall from Pairo's, and brought it to his cheek instead. “Ah, Kurapika.”_

“ _Did you forget your medication?” Kurapika furrowed his eyebrows, even though he suspected Pairo could barely see him to tell. It was scary. Pairo had been okay lately, but the seizures happened without warning, and they scared him half to death. “Hey, I...”_

“ _I'm fine!” Pairo said it brightly, but his eyes were bloodshot and Kurapika could tell he was having trouble focusing on his face. “I just got some dust in my eye.”_

“ _... okay. You know, some day, I'm gonna go live there, across the ocean. I hear on the mainland you can get anywhere in just a few hours. They have trains all over the place. We could go all across Tokyo every day on a high-speed railway.”_

“ _Really?” Pairo's hand found his again, and Kurapika swung it a little as they walked. “That sounds incredible, but I think it might be an exaggeration.”_

“ _No way! It's really true. I'll go and prove it, we can both go together.” He'd wanted to go for so long. On the island where they lived, there was only so much they could do about Pairo's deteriorating health, after all._

“ _You have to get ojii-san's permission first.” For a moment they were both quiet, but then Pairo was smiling gently, and his fingers squeezed Kurapika's palm. “I think it's really cool, though. You'll have to go and tell me all about it, okay?”_

“ _Well,” Kurapika said sullenly, “I'm gonna bring you with me.”_

“ _My mom won't let me,” Pairo said gently, and Kurapika knew it was true. After Pairo's fall, it was understandable that his parents wouldn't want him so far away. It made his heart hurt to admit it even to himself. If he had listened, Pairo wouldn't have gotten hurt. It was his job to do whatever he could to fix it. “So, when you go, you have to tell me all about it.”_

“ _Yeah. I will, I promise. I'll tell you everything, I'll send you lots of emails and souvenirs and all sorts of things.”_

_Pairo's smile was as warm as his hand, tucked into Kurapika's._

He'd have to tell Pairo how things went. If he was watching, somewhere, Kurapika knew that what he saw would only make him cry. Pairo wouldn't have wanted this, he knew. But Pairo wasn't there to tell him that, wasn't there to hold him back, or even just hold him. Pairo was gone.

Everyone was gone.

With that thought in his mind, Kurapika went to meet Dalzollene and the rest of the team. It wasn't as if they were all terrible, really. Baise was fine in the brief times when she wasn't making passes. Senritsu was a pleasure to work with, and he was glad to have the chance to speak with her again. She kept mostly to the sidelines, which he thought was fitting. Her skills as a technician were of best use far from the battle itself. Besides them, Linssen was meek and suspiciously reserved, but his skills must have been up to par given his status as a first-class investigator. Even Basho wasn't bad, though he was boisterous and overbearing.

Actually, once he thought about it, the one who harbored the most distrust towards him was Dalzollene himself, though Squala wasn't fond of him either. Otherwise, there was only Shachmono and quiet Ivlenkov. He wasn't sure how those two felt, about anything really.

As long as they didn't get in the way, whatever they thought about him was fine.

He didn't need anyone to like him.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! After this chapter I'm going to take a bit of a break to increase my buffer on this fic. I might not update for a few days!

The second they met up that morning, Killua knew something was different. Not wrong, but off – something about Gon's smell had changed. Blessedly, it wasn't Hisoka, but something distinctly ghoulish was in his scent. It was sort of familiar in a way, the smell of a ghoul. On Gon, though, it was wrong. He hated it, but what could he do?

There was no casual way to ask about it, after all. All he could even attempt to do was to follow the tiny leads he had. The smell of ghouls, but Gon's leanings were towards the doves. “Hey, have you been hanging out with Leorio and Kurapika lately? You had dinner with them again the other day, didn't you? What's up with them?”

Gon seemed surprised at that, pausing with his mouth full of rice. He chewed vigorously before swallowing loudly, and Killua almost kicked him for it. It was gross, the sound of Gon smacking his lips. “Yeah, I saw Kurapika last night. He's been promoted to second-class already! The Quinx squad doesn't follow the rest of the CCG's regulations as far as stuff like quinques goes, turns out. Kurapika has one. He let me hold it for a little while, even. Well, he just had me hold it for a second while he got something else, but that counts.”

That would be the smell, then. He was glad he'd directed the conversation there, though it was surprising how quickly he'd gotten his answer. Quinques scared him, though he was loathe to admit it. Ripping out a kagune and fashioning it into something else, something humans used to kill ghouls. Each quinque was a mockery of the deceased in some way, but it was also the picture of pragmatism.

Killua leaned forward, picking a grain of rice off Gon's cheek. It tasted like death, and he hid it under his tongue instead of swallowing it. Getting Gon to blush was worth the foulness in his mouth. They were going on a date later, and he still wasn't sure what to do or how to feel about what he wanted. So for the moment, he would just enjoy the expressions on Gon's face.

“That's cool. What did it look like?”

“Hmm,” Gon said, rubbing at his thumb. “It was sort of funny, actually. It looks sort of like a whip, almost. But not really? More like a chain. It's yellow, actually. I didn't expect that. I thought it would be less colorful, sort of? It's not like...”

For a moment Gon only looked at his rice, like he was deliberating on something. Killua frowned. Gon had been hiding things from him, he realized abruptly; he'd already known it somewhere in the back of his head, but now it was undeniable. It stung, but he had no room to judge. His entire life was hidden information. Killua was able to recognize and admit his own hypocrisy, at least.

“If it's something you're not allowed to tell me, it's fine,” he said haltingly, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. “CCG secrets. I mean, not that _you're_ CCG, but like, your dad. Kurapika shouldn't tell you that stuff, though.”

“It's not that,” Gon admitted, the color in his cheeks finally fading. He looked small, suddenly. Killua hated it. “I just... Kurapika, you know? He's... a lot like me.”

“You don't have to tell me,” Killua said again. Something nervous was stirring in his stomach. What did Gon mean by that? Something that Gon was hesitant to tell him for some reason, but something that he was desperate for. Something he had found in Kurapika, but that he felt unable to share. “Oh. Oh, no, I get it. I get it. Yeah, I... that doesn't...”

He'd already known that quirk of Kurapika's physiology. The odd mix of hormones in the man's body had been clear enough from the start. Smells gave that sort of thing away to a ghoul. Killua was glad for it, in a way, but in others he hated it. Kurapika was a dove. It hurt that he was able to give Gon a kind of support that Killua couldn't provide.

“It just seems sort of odd. You know... I never thought I'd meet someone who really understood, you know?” Gon's knee started to bounce, the way it did when he was thinking really hard about something. “Things are really weird like that, aren't they? Maybe... People, I mean.”

“Yeah.” They always danced around the words, didn't they? Words they both knew, but were reluctant to voice. Things they knew, but were reluctant to speak about. Knowing something didn't make it comfortable, and soon, a status quo of avoided communication settled in place. It was too late to shake that, maybe.

Killua thought of Alluka again, trying to banish the morning's dream from his thoughts.

“ _Onii-chan is the nicest person in the world,” she confided to the stuffed bear he'd snatched from the garbage for her. It had taken a long time to clean it and patch it and it was lumpy and misshapen in a lot of ways, but Alluka loved it nonetheless. She'd named it Scarebear, and she brought it everywhere with her. Killua wished he could have made it a little kagune as well, but he was bad enough with needle and thread as it was. If he were a little better, he could have made it like her – sweeping ukaku at the shoulders, curling rinkaku at the waist._

_She'd inherited both, after all. Their secret._

“ _It itches, and I don't like it,” she said about the rinkaku. Alluka kept it hidden beneath her skin. She liked her ukaku, and that was fine as long as it made her happy. Even if their father didn't know, it was fine. He didn't want Alluka to have to go through what he did, training his rinkaku. She was more delicate than that._

“ _Onii-chan knows I'm a girl, so what other people say doesn't matter,” Alluka told Scarebear, holding it tightly in her arms. “The mean things they say don't matter.”_

Killua remembered her crying face in his dream. As if he could forget.

He directed his attention to Gon instead, locking that familiar pain away once more. There was nothing to gain from weeping over ghosts.

“So,” Gon started, clearly eager to drop the topic. “Later, what do you think? Mito-san said she'll get a cake if you want one, but I asked her to wait on buying it.”

Killua nodded for a moment, before stopping as the words sank in. “Why? You think I don't want cake? I thought we talked about cake.”

“Yeah. But since we're going out anyway, I sort of... wanted to get it for you, myself. We can pick it out together, you know?”

It made him kind of happy. Happier than the cake itself would, of course. Grinning, Killua shrugged. “You gonna take me to a pastry shop too? I hope you're ready for the repercussions of that. Gon. Are you prepared to take responsibility when I eat seventeen cakes?”

Gon snorted, setting his chopsticks down. “I'm not gonna buy you seventeen cakes.”

Killua slid forward, slumping over the table. “Gooon,” he whined, curling and uncurling his fingers at Gon in a grabbing motion. “Buy me the cakes. It's my birthday, you gotta. Gimme. Gimme the cake, Gon. Cake me.”

“Killua, nooo. I'll go broke! I'll get you a little cake and we can eat it together. With strawberries.”

“Feed it to me and we have a deal.” Killua pressed his face against the table. If Gon fed him cake, maybe it wouldn't taste like lukewarm feces. That wasn't even remotely funny, even as a sarcastic quip to himself. He pressed his hands on the table and forced himself to his feet, sighing. “Hey, we gotta go if we're gonna be on time for class.”

“We should skip,” Gon said wistfully, and Killua let himself fall heavily back in his seat. It made Gon snicker a little, and he covered his mouth with his hands. “No, we shouldn't, but I kind of want to. It's your birthday and you hate school. But we really should go.”

“Skip school, oh my _god_ ,” Killua crowed, reaching forward to snatch Gon's hand up. The other boy yanked his arms back, frowning as his face reddened in embarrassment. “This is the greatest birthday gift I could ask for. You suggesting we skip school. You! What will I tell Mito-san if you become a delinquent?”

“I won't!” Gon's cheeks were even brighter, and he slammed his hands against the table as he stood. “Come on, Killua!”

“Fine, fine.” Killua got back to his feet, laughing. Gon's hand latched around his wrist, tugging him forward just hard enough that it made him lose his balance a little. He stumbled over his feet, bumping the table with his hip and sending Gon's empty glass of water rocking. “Fuck, Gon, watch it. Lately you don't know your own strength. Or, like, you've forgotten how to hold back.”

“Sorry,” Gon said, genuinely apologetic. He let go of Killua's arm, looking at his fingers with a puzzled expression. “I think it's because I'm growing. I got taller, well, a little bit. And my muscles hurt a lot.”

“It's because you won't stop being an exercise fiend.” Killua shrugged his shoulders, reaching over to flick Gon's forehead. It made him wince. “Don't sweat it, okay? Come on. We've got class.”

“Yeah,” Gon murmured, rubbing his neck.


	25. Chapter 25

“Come on, Gon!” Killua yelled. “Get it together!”

“I'm trying!” Gon's voice was a wail, and sweat dripped down his cheeks. His hands were shaking, and that didn't help anything. Killua wanted to push him, to take over. “Killua! Killua, help.”

“You gotta do it this time!” Killua slid his hand over Gon's, and their fingers moved together. He could smell Gon, stronger than usual because of the fresh sweat on his neck. It was almost intoxicating. Gon's smell was dangerous, but he took it in anyway, with no other choice. Their bodies pressed together, chest to back. “This is it, Gon! Gon, come on!”

“No pressure, huh?!” Gon groaned, and his elbow bumped against Killua's forearm. It mercifully didn't jostle him, but it didn't stop Gon from gasping loudly. “Sorry, sorry!”

“No, all sorts of pressure, fucking do it!” Killua bit down on his lower lip, his eyes narrowed. He could feel his heart racing, and it was almost embarrassing. They were so close, all it needed was a little bit more... Killua held his breath as Gon's thumb pressed down and up again. Silence reigned for that moment, just waiting, and then...

The stuffed dog dropped from the crane's arm, and they both howled in frustration. The claw slid back up smoothly, clicking back into place. Game over. Gon fumbled in his pockets frantically, spilling his phone and dropping his wallet. The battery of his phone popped out with a clatter. Killua hoped it wasn't broken. “Killua, I don't have any more change!”

“Fuck!” Killua banged a fist against the glass of the UFO catcher, and Gon sighed, not even reprimanding him for manhandling the machinery. “Shit.”

“Sorry, Killua,” Gon said weakly, picking up his dropped belongings again. He looked genuinely dejected, crouching down to retrieve the battery and slide it back into his phone. There was a little snap as he pushed the back of the phone back into place. He paused for a moment as it powered on again, the screen lighting up brightly. There was a little dent in the side, Killua noted, but it had still turned on. “I almost had it, too,” Gon complained, wiping at his forehead with the back of his hand. It was unbelievable, Killua thought. They'd broken a sweat over a crane game. Was that a sign of a bigger problem?

“Nah, it's okay. You didn't break your phone, right?” He scratched his head, digging in his own pockets despondently. There was nothing left there. Somehow they'd spent 1500 yen in that endeavor – way too much money to blow on a crane game, even if it had become a competition at some point. How had they gotten so into it? Sheer stubbornness was the only answer, but he was loathe to admit how much money had gone to waste over them being too competitive to stop. It was more forgiving to attribute it to distraction, even if it wasn't the case at all. “If you'd have gotten it I think I would have been even madder.”

“That's why I wanted it! I was gonna win.” Gon flipped through his wallet, humming as he thumbed over all sorts of things. Killua peered over his shoulder with a frown. A number of receipts, scribbled notes to and from Mito, his student ID and ticket stubs from the train. Gon's wallet was more trash than money at that point. Killua suspected that it was always more trash than money, though. Gon's messiness didn't have a system the way Killua's own did, or at least not one he could comprehend. “Ah.”

“What?”

Gon tugged a few bills out – not much at all, Killua noted. That was probably what Gon was trying to draw attention to. “I only have 500 yen left.”

Killua snorted, resting his arm on Gon's shoulder. Then he realized what that meant. “My cake,” he said despondently. Gon's cheeks flushed. “Gon, _no_. My cake. I didn't bring money for cake, because you said you wanted to buy it for me. _Gon_.”

He didn't care about the cake, really.

“I'm sorry!” Gon took a step back, and Killua leaned with him. It wasn't like he would just let Gon escape that easily. He laughed when Gon's hand pushed his chin back. The attempt to shove him away was an abject failure, and Killua threw an arm around Gon's neck to hold on. “Killua, I'm sorry, don't squish me!”

“Like I could!” It made him drop more of his weight on Gon, and the fact that the other boy held firm said all it needed to. “See?”

Gon stuck his tongue out, and Killua angled his head forward to snap his teeth at the offending organ. It was only to make Gon smile again, he knew, but he did it anyway. The action only prompted Gon to backpedal rapidly, and they bumped against the machine hard enough to rock it slightly. Gon's bag was trapped between them, and a book jabbed into Killua's stomach. He ignored it. It wasn't as if it hurt at all. “Killua, gross.”

“Yeah. But,” Killua grinned, before their noses touched briefly. Instead of continuing, he looked at the other boy. Gon's lips were pressed together in a thin line, proof of his mild irritation. Killua licked his own lips in sudden nervousness. It was too far of a jump to kiss him, he scolded himself.

He didn't even realize that he'd left off on his thought until Gon spoke.

“But what?” Killua thought he could see the ghost of a smile on Gon's face now.

“You don't care about that,” he mumbled, feeling his cheeks warm.

“Nah.” One of Gon's hands found his, and his thumb rubbed against Killua's. For a moment it seemed like Gon wasn't sure what to do after that, but then he grinned widely. The gap was smaller, Killua thought. He could do it now, maybe. He ran his tongue across the backs of his teeth. He could kiss Gon. Were his cheeks red enough to give it away? “Hey, Killua?”

“Um,” Killua said. Gon's voice had toppled the wobbling tower he'd built up out of courage. It crashed to the ground within his mind, and he wanted to cover his mouth with one hand. Killua almost felt like it would have been easier to run away. Certainly, it would have been less nerve-wracking than staring into Gon's eyes. He averted his own, looking instead at the machine they were still leaning against. It took Killua all of his emotional strength to keep his voice casual when he spoke again. “What?”

“I can still buy you a little, itty bitty cake. Maybe like... Individual slices. One for Killua, one for me. Oh, and one for Mito-san.” Gon looked almost bashful for a moment, and his fingers slipped away from Killua's. It was cute, and Killua felt his cheeks heat even more. He wished Gon hadn't let go.

It had to be impossible to miss the embarrassment lighting up his face, but Gon wasn't exactly meeting his eyes. The other boy was twiddling his thumbs a little, and Killua swallowed, his mouth feeling dry. It seemed unfair.

He couldn't keep the thought away – Gon was cute, Gon was so cute. The phrase “twice shy” floated up somewhere in the back of Killua's mind. He wasn't sure that it applied, but just the thought made his heart beat too fast. Was it wrong to hope for good things to happen? The fact that he could smell the nervousness on Gon only made his own wistfulness swell. But was it the same emotion, from the same source? Gon was hyper aware of him being so close, as much as he was aware of Gon. Standing there together, they were close enough that they could feel each others' breath, and neither of them moved an inch.

Killua wished he could take hold of his own heart to calm it. For him to take a step forward was asking too much. He was too scared. He was too scared to do it, his throat tight and his chest hurting. Even though he could hear Gon's heart pounding, doubt whittled away at his bravery. Even though he could smell it on the other boy – excitement, a little fear, and something else that made heat bubble in his abdomen, something he ached to understand – he couldn't bring himself to say the words he really wanted to say, to do the things he really wanted to do.

“I don't want the cake,” he wanted to say. “I want you, I want to taste you and feel you and love you.” Killua wanted to say it, but the words died in his chest, burned up by a thousand memories. It hurt. His throat felt like it was being gripped too hard. Even though he wanted to wrap his arms around Gon, he couldn't move. Killua thought about the dream he'd had. He thought about his parents, the impotent rage he held in his heart towards his family. He thought about Gon, and he thought, desperately, about Alluka.

Cake, Gon had said. Cake tasted foul to him, but to Gon it was good. The things that tasted good to him were foul to humans. Cake didn't matter. Gon did.

“Okay,” he said, smiling.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're unfamiliar with the story of Tanabata, [here's a link to the wikipedia entry on it.](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tanabata) It's a pretty decent summary of the legend.

“It's Tanabata, huh,” Gon said after a long moment, setting his fork down. Killua took another bite of cake, thinking about it. He'd eaten half the slice already, but he made a show of casting longing looks at Gon's piece.

“Yeah, so? It's been Tanabata every single year, you know?” It was weird that Gon was bringing it up now. The fact that Killua's birthday was a festival day didn't mean much to him. There was no time to go out and be a part of Tanabata celebrations – living right in the middle of Tokyo made that a challenge anyway. Back before he'd left the Zoldyck estate, they'd celebrated it. His mother liked the holiday. She liked a lot of things like that, but neither she nor his father had been sure as to whether his birth falling on Tanabata was a bad omen.

“I was just thinking, I'm glad it's not raining.” Gon prodded the fork a little, pushing it across the table. Killua thought about it for a moment, before nodding. It had rained the previous year, he recalled – or maybe it had been the year before? Killua wasn't sure. His birthdays tended to meld together into a strange blur.

“Mm... me too, I guess. Because it would suck, wouldn't it? No bridge across the Milky Way. No meeting.”

“Yeah. I think, I'd be really sad if I were Hikoboshi-sama or Orihime-sama and it rained on Tanabata. Waiting for months and months to see the person you love, and when the day finally comes you can't cross to meet them. That would be awful.”

Killua leaned across the table and stole the strawberry from Gon's cake, waving it in front of his face for a moment as he spoke. “It's probably good that you're not them, then. And besides, it's a myth. Getting sad over it, there's no point.”

Gon frowned, but made to attempt to reclaim his food. “You're probably sick of it, though, since it's your birthday.”

For a moment, Killua simply chewed on the strawberry. “When I was a little kid – you know, before I left home to be a _big_ kid – we used to hang tanzaku and all that. I remember my brother holding me up so I could hang mine at the very top of the bamboo. I wished for stupid stuff, almost every time. Toys, food. By the time I was ten I knew so much shit about Tanabata. My mom's a real weirdo when it comes to myths and stuff. She never stopped talking about how her baby boy was a Tanabata baby. It pissed me off when I was little. Felt like she was expecting something. I'm over it now, you know? But really, I think I ended up relating.”

“Did you think a lot about cows?” Gon flashed a teasing grin at him.

“Hilarious. No, I mean...” What did he mean? It was hard to put into words. “When you think about it... I feel like it's pretty shitty. Imagine if your dad set you up with a guy and you hit it off, but then because you're so happy you stop living up to your dad's expectations? So he punishes you for it, because you're not being productive anymore. Tentei sounds like a crap dad to me. He should have just bit his tongue, because he started the whole thing. I know it varies from telling to telling, but like, that's a constant in the story.”

Gon quieted, just looking at him. Killua felt his cheeks heat. It wasn't like he talked about his family very often, for all sorts of reasons. Gon never asked, either, but they both knew he was desperate to know. “I guess you're right... but then, when he sees how upset Orihime-sama is, he agrees to let them meet, so...”

“Yeah, but once a year? He cares more about his daughter being productive than he does about her being happy. I'd be stressed year-round with those conditions – you can only meet your boyfriend if you meet this quota! If not, you're shit out of luck!” Killua paused, waving his fork a little. Gon took a bite of cake, just watching him. “And, when you think about it, he had to know there was no way for them to cross the river. It was all false hope so she'd work harder. The whole thing is so shitty. If I were Orihime I'd have just run away. Screw Tentei, you know?”

“I never thought about the bridge thing. You're right. If there was a bridge, they could have secretly met at any time, I think... I would have tried to sneak over, if it were me. But...” Gon licked a bit of frosting off his fork, clearly considering his words. “You really resent your family, huh.”

“Obviously!” It was louder than he'd intended for it to be. He resented the whole holiday, in some ways, but he couldn't fault Gon for bringing it up. He didn't know better.

“ _I wished for stupid stuff, almost every time.”_

He remembered standing in front of the tanzaku that year, the last year he made a wish. Killua had hung it on his own at the very top, stretching on his tiptoes and even using his kagune. Even knowing it was just a legend, he'd hoped with all his heart that it would reach into the skies.

“Killua, I... No, forget it.” Gon leaned on his elbows, his eyebrows drawn together. Killua sighed, reaching over to flick Gon's forehead. “Ow! Killua!”

“It's my birthday, right? So don't get all mopey over stupid shit. I didn't want to be mom and dad's perfect little heir, and I didn't want them to dictate my life. They think I might come back some day, and that's why they still pay for me, but they're gonna be waiting until they're skeletons. I'm staying here.” With Gon, he thought, but he didn't say it out loud. He'd latched onto Gon like a lifeline, he knew. Even then, Killua knew some day he would find something he really wanted, something he wanted to do more than anything else. It had to happen eventually, didn't it? But until then, he'd stay with Gon.

“Yeah.” Gon smiled at that, and it was an immense relief. “Sorry. Hey, do you want to sleep over tonight? Oh, but there's school tomorrow.”

Killua considered it for a long while, tapping his fork against his lips. “I wanna. Birthday boy, you know? But I probably shouldn't. Remember last time? We played video games until one in the morning. Besides, you roll out of your bed all the time and crush my poor, fragile body.”

“I could sleep on the floor,” Gon protested around a mouthful of cake. He swallowed before continuing; Mito had taught him not to talk with his mouth full. “You never let me give you my bed. It's stupid. You're the guest, so you should get the bed.”

“Nah. It smells like a big old fart factory.” Truth be told, he just didn't know what would happen if he slept in Gon's bed, surrounded by his smell in all directions. And some of it was mental, he knew. Knowing it was where Gon slept every night did something to his brain. The possibilities were endless, and the fact that lately it was a fifty-fifty shot that he'd wake up with an erection made him less willing to gamble. On the futon, he could sneak to the bathroom to relieve his bladder without waking Gon up. On the bed, he'd have to step over him.

And also, if he slept in Gon's bed, he'd remember what had happened between them the last time. The only time they'd ever shared it, really. Gon's lips on his were still a vivid memory in his mind.

“It does not! Why do you always say stuff like that?”

“Because it's weird for a dude to sleep in his friend's bed when he sleeps on the floor? Besides, you might look at it as being a guest, but from my perspective it's me imposing on your hospitality or something. Also, like, if I wake up at four and have to pee, I'm going to trip over your ass getting out of your bed. And I always wake up at like four because I have to pee. You never notice precisely because I don't sleep in your bed.”

“Oh. You could just say that, you know.” Gon finished his cake, giving Killua a suddenly determined look. “What if we both slept on the floor?”

“You roll around in your sleep and I don't wanna get flatt...” Killua's words trailed off, and he narrowed his eyes at Gon. “Gon, do you wanna sleep with me?”

“What?” The other boy blushed a little, but didn't avert his gaze. His eyes widened, though, and his hands folded together in that familiar gesture. “No, I mean! If we were both on the floor, we'd sort of... be on equal grounds, you know? I guess literally and figuratively.”

“... huh. You're not gonna let up on this, huh?”

“If you really don't wanna, that's fine,” Gon grumbled, leaning over to tug Killua's empty plate over and stack it on his. “But, if you wanna stay over tonight, I'll get the futon.”

“You can sleep on the floor with me if you really wanna,” Killua said awkwardly, his cheeks reddening again. “As long as you don't do anything to endanger my precious chastity.”

As soon as he said the words, he remembered Gon's voice wavering as he apologized. Regret was instantaneous and harsh, and it tasted worse than the cake had. It had been meant as a joke, but it made them both stop dead. The color drained out of Gon's face, and something stabbed into Killua's gut that probably wasn't the food.

“I'm sorry,” Killua said quietly, even as Gon averted his gaze. “Just... it was a bad joke. I'm sorry. I didn't...”

They still hadn't talked about it, even now.

“It's fine! I'll, just go get the futon.”

When Gon padded down the hallway, Killua swallowed hard. He shouldn't have said it. How stupid was he, saying something like that? Not thinking about it at all, he'd let the words come out. The things they used to laugh about together, those things had been sealed away and buried in the ground to be lost. They'd never be able to make those jokes again, lost in a strange romantic limbo that Killua hated.

He'd made those jokes with Zushi too, he remembered. At Zushi's expense, really. Hadn't he been cruel to the other boy? Killua put the plates in the sink, trying not to drown in sudden self-loathing. He could have teased Zushi less. Should have. Couldn't he have been a nicer person? Killua didn't know if it would have made a difference. Being nice... it wouldn't have made him strong enough to stop Illumi.

In the other room, Killua heard the heavy _thwump_ of Gon dropping the futon on the floor, followed by another a few seconds later. Two futons. Gon hadn't changed his mind. It was probably good. It meant moving on, and it meant that the stupid joke hadn't hurt him as much as Killua feared.

They didn't play video games until one in the morning. The dream he had that night was of Tanabata so many years ago, almost exactly the way it lived in his memories.


	27. Chapter 27

He was too short, Killua realized. Even on his tiptoes, he couldn't quite reach the top. It wasn't like he'd ask someone else to hold him up anymore. No one even knew he was there, hanging his wish at a quarter to midnight. He'd said he wouldn't make one, after all.

If his wish was at the top, wouldn't the stars see it first? Closest to the sky, so they would surely see his prayer. It was fake, Killua knew. It was all fake, all stupid legends.

“Please don't be fake,” Killua whispered, even knowing it was his unwillingness to confront the truth. He couldn't reach. It was okay, since no one was around. His kagune stretched out behind him, glowing in the moonlight. He used it to pluck the tanzaku from his fingertips, reaching up into the sky. As high as it could go, and not high enough. The bamboo wasn't high enough to reach the heavens.

He turned away as soon as the wish had been hung, instead of standing there transfixed and watching it. That was he had really done, Killua thought, though that made no sense. It was happening right now, wasn't it? So how could he know what would happen next enough to feel like what he was doing was wrong? Instead of doing what he really had, he turned away, and heard the flutter of paper.

His fervent wish slowly drifted to the ground, landing in the dirt. Killua wanted to scream, even as he ran to collect it before it could blow away in the sudden wind. His fingers closed around the paper, brushing it clean.

 _Please_ , the paper said – a politeness he never used – _bring my sister back._

“It didn't work,” a voice said behind him. It was high-pitched and childish, and Killua whirled even as terrified tears began to form in his eyes. “I didn't come back.”

“No,” he whispered, crumpling the wish in his fingers. “I always knew it was a lie. I knew the stars couldn't bring you back. They're just balls of gas millions and millions and millions of miles away. They're not gods. They were never gods.”

Alluka smiled at him, brighter than any star. She wasn't really there, Killua knew. “Onii-chan, you never believed in gods. I think that asking for favors for people you don't believe in is unfair. Of course it wouldn't come true.”

“I...” Killlua's hands shook, even as he reached for her. His fingers slid through her cheek, and her smile vanished in an instant. Tears finally began to roll down his cheeks, uncontrollable and too hot, burning his skin.

“You can't touch me anymore. How could you? I'm not here.”

“But I want you to be,” Killua sobbed. He couldn't feel anything beneath his skin. She wasn't there. She wouldn't ever be there. “They took you away from me. They took you and you _died_ and there was nothing, _nothing_ I could do about it.”

“So you didn't even try. You moped and cried and sat around making wishes. You gave up on me. You abandoned me. How could you?” Her face twisted up in something beyond anger and beyond sorrow. It was only pain. That was wrong, Killua thought. It was wrong.

“You,” he started, throwing the paper to the ground. It was useless, he knew. Just a stupid attempt, him trying to do something that couldn't be done. “She was never like that. You're not Alluka, you-”

“You didn't even try,” she said again, her eyes boring into him. Blood began to drip from her eye sockets, her teeth red with it as she smiled again. Her shirt was staining red as it flowed out from the wound in her stomach. “Onii-chan, aren't you just trying to lessen your own guilt? Pretending like you did everything you could, trying to run away from the fact that it's your fault I'm dead.”

“You're not her,” Killua yelled, lunging forward to grab the girl's shoulders. Her back slammed against the wall of the little shrine, and her head fell forward. When she looked back up at him, her eyes were black pits. “You're not _her_ either! Stop it!”

“Killua, I love you.” Even as he rattled her against the wall, shaking her with all his strength, she didn't resist. A long gash opened up at her collar, stretching up into her throat. She looked the way he remembered, the last time he ever saw her. It made him want to vomit.

“You're not her! Stop pretending to be them, stop it, _stop it_! Who _are_ you?” Reaching back, Killua slapped her as hard as he could. It made the split skin of her throat stretch disgustingly, and he could see down into her in that moment. He made himself look away, so he wouldn't scream. “She never said things like that, she was never like that! Even though it's my fault, she would never blame me! Even though it's-!”

“It's my fault.” The eyes that fixed back on him were blue again. Killua stared for a long moment. He had gotten taller, at some point. The boy he looked down on now was so young. Eleven years old. No, twelve. It was his twelfth birthday. “It's my fault, you know?”

“I,” Killua whispered, unable to look away from his own eyes. What could he possibly say to himself that he didn't already know?

“She died,” he said. The little boy was behind him, somehow. Killua had to whirl to face him, that tiny version of him that shrugged with his hands in his pockets. “She died, and all I did was sit around.”

“I didn't. I didn't! That's why I left, that's why I had to leave. I was – look at you, you, we were eleven! It shouldn't have been, it was mom and dad's responsibility, they should have been taking care of her! It's... my fault. It's my fault, so bring her back! If you're here, you can do that! You shouldn't be able to be here but you are, so bring Alluka-!”

His younger self had taken one of his hands out of his pocket. He stretched it out at his side, like he was reaching out to grasp at something. Color blossomed from his fingertips, like paint in water. It filled out another hand in his, and then moved up an arm. A long sleeve dropped down to cover it, and then the rest of the shirt flowed into existence.

Even as color moved to reshape Alluka, the boy holding her hand became, bit by bit, fainter. By the time her eyes looked at him again, the pair of them were both transparent. Not enough, once stretched between two people.

Alluka blinked at him for a moment, and Killua realized she didn't recognize him. Her eyes slid to her side, to the younger him, and she beamed.

“Onii-chan, you hung your wish, right?”

“Yeah,” Killua replied – the younger him, in his childish voice. “Should we go back?”

“Okay! Let's go home.”

“No,” Killua whispered, as they turned away from him. “No, you can't – please, don't leave me again, don't!”

Even as he stumbled, he didn't go anywhere. Rain had started to fall, blurring his view of them. Something was pressing against his chest, holding him back. He couldn't follow them. “Alluka, no! Alluka, don't leave me! Don't go! _Alluka_!”

_“Bye-bye, Killua!”_

“Killua!”

Killua woke with a gasp, throwing a hand off his chest and shoulder. Sweat was rolling down his cheeks and neck, and it made him feel sticky and disgusting. He wiped at his face, knowing there were tears streaming down it. His chest heaved with every breath, and it felt like something was squeezing his rib cage. “A- no... I... Gon?”

Gon's face was twisted up in concern, his eyes shining in the faint light. The rain from his dream was pouring down outside, the sound of it a dull murmur beneath his frantic breathing. It was raining, and he couldn't meet with the person he was desperate to see again. “Sorry. You were, you sort of...”

“Had a nightmare,” Killua gasped, bunching up the fabric of his shirt to scrub away the tears. “I, sorry, I. Must have woken you up. I... sorry.”

“No, I... you looked like you were really upset, and. I... you probably don't want to talk about it, but.”

Talk about it. The words took a moment to sink into Killua's panicked, exhausted brain. Talking about it was... The tears rolling down his face continued, and he covered his mouth with his shirt. Gon didn't know anything. He couldn't talk about it. If he wanted to keep Gon safe, he couldn't talk about it. He didn't want to talk about it, even knowing he needed to.

If he talked about it, he would have to put himself back in that place.

“No,” he whispered, gritting his teeth so hard it hurt to hold back a sob. “I... I know, I should. I should, but I. Remembering, is.”

Gon rubbed at his nose, sniffing. He wasn't crying, Killua thought, but it looked like he would start to at any moment. “Killua, I...”

“I had a dream about my sister,” Killua said, and though he tried to keep his voice even, the last word melted into a sob. He couldn't do it, he realized. He couldn't keep his cool, couldn't calm himself down. His eyes burned, and the world blurred into a dark mess. “I don't, I didn't, I, I just, I'm! I couldn't do anything, I can't ever do anything!”

Gon's arms circled him, pulling him over as he began to weep. He didn't say anything at all, though Killua could feel the way his chest shook with quick breaths. Gon didn't know how to handle people crying, he knew, especially not him crying. It had never happened before, not before Zushi. And with Zushi, Gon had been just as emotional. Now was different.

He had to stop, he had to calm down, but his heart was pounding so fast and his breathing was so shallow that nothing seemed real. Gon's mouth pressed against his forehead – not exactly a kiss, but a silent gesture of concern and comfort. Proving his presence without words. Killua's fingers curled into Gon's shirt, gripping him hard. If he did that, Gon couldn't go anywhere. What would he do if Gon left too?

Alluka was gone. He didn't want to forget, but it hurt so much to remember.

As he cried, the sound of the rain slowly lessened, and Gon didn't let go.


	28. Chapter 28

“Kurapika.”

When he woke, he realized there was a soft weight on his hand, circling his middle finger. Opening his eyes, Kurapika stared at the ceiling. Why was he on his back? What had he been doing last? Something beeped.

“I'm in the hospital,” he said aloud, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. From the way the bed was, he was almost half-sitting. The weight on his hand was a pulse monitor, he realized.

When Kurapika looked to his side, Senritsu smiled at him. She was sitting on a stool, carefully peeling an apple. “Hello. Would you like something to eat? You fell asleep during your blood work.”

“Passed out, you mean.” It was easy to sit up all the way, and his head ached. Kurapika remembered coming in for that, at least. He'd never been squeamish about it before, though, and he didn't think he'd been dehydrated.

“No, actually, they think you legitimately fell asleep.” She finished peeling the apple and began to slice it, and Kurapika squinted at her a little. The lights in the room were very bright, reflecting off the white walls. He wondered how long he had been asleep. “I came by since you missed the briefing.”

“Bizarre,” he said slowly, looking down at his hands.

“Do you think so?”

“I don't,” Leorio said from the doorway. He had his hands shoved in his pockets and a scowl on his face. Kurapika sighed, pressing his hand against his forehead. “You don't sleep enough. You forget to eat. What the hell am I gonna do with you?”

“I don't think you're going to do much,” Kurapika retorted. Dealing with Leorio was only going to make the pain in his head worse. He frowned back at the other man, knowing it was childish. “I was under the impression that you were my coworker and not my mother or significant other.”

“Don't be such a little asshole,” Leorio scoffed, his frown only intensifying. Kurapika sniffed in response, resisting the impulse to turn his nose up at Leorio. They were showing off a pathetic side of themselves, he thought, his gaze drifting to Senritsu. She was rallying admirably; though she had to have felt awkward, it barely showed on her face. It was a good example to follow.

Sighing again, Kurapika shook his head. “I'm sorry. That was unwarranted.”

“Yeah,” Leorio mumbled, not looking at him. It was the best they would do, he knew. No matter how much time they spent together, it never got easier to avoid squabbling. “How are you feeling?”

“Considering I apparently fell asleep during medical testing, I've been better.”

Senritsu set the plate of apple slices on the bedside table, smiling nervously. “Um,” she began, folding her hands together. “I'm sorry, about the meeting?”

“I'm so sorry,” Kurapika said immediately, leaning forward. The briefing had been some time ago, he was sure. It had been at one, though he had no idea what time it was currently. “I'll have to apologize to everyone. Er...”

“I've taken transcripts,” she said, even as she fidgeted with her fingers. Kurapika sighed a little. He'd been expecting that, strangely enough. Senritsu was reliably practical. He liked that about her. “I think that it would be easier to summarize, though. Source 17 has left us another message, detailing the Troupe's movements towards Neon Nostrade. Additionally, they've noted that several of the previous captives have gone missing. At least, that's what we think the message meant. As usual, the phrasing is very poetic. There's some doubt as to whether we've interpreted it correctly. Assuming we have, and there's been an incident concerning said captives... Currently we're unsure as to whether they escaped, were rescued, or were... stolen.”

That left a bad taste in his mouth. It seemed to be the same for Leorio, who pulled a chair over. Technically he wasn't cleared to be hearing this, Kurapika knew. But it hardly mattered. It wasn't like either of them had any respect for the way the CCG did things. And it wasn't like Leorio would act on the information. “Do we have any idea as to who they are?”

“Not just yet. Given the circumstances, um... the fact that they are still considered 'captives' and not 'parts'... they must be people who were recently taken.” Senritsu paused for a moment, like she was trying to remember something in particular. “That's a fairly short list, all things considered. Within the past four months, given previous patterns. Older than that, it's very rare that they would still be alive.”

“Mm.” Common sense said it wouldn't take long for the Troupe to finish dividing up a victim for sale, but they seemed to take their time with it despite that. Stretching out the amount of time before killing their victim meant either that they were remarkably cruel, or that they were lining up buyers before removing parts. “I don't know what we could possibly do with that information, but it seems like it would be good to know.”

“The squad leader thinks it might be another mole in the organization. They haven't found out #17, so it's possible there are other members who don't really see eye-to-eye with things.”

“It seems too fortuitous for that to be the case. That would be a lucky break for us, which is why I'm inclined to believe it's not what's going on. Then again, I can't imagine anyone but another ghoul managing to wrest human captives from the Troupe.”

“It's not like the Troupe is the only faction in Tokyo,” Leorio said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his thighs. “If someone's going to rob them, they've got to either have nothing to lose or no reason to believe they _would_ lose. You're probably right that it's not a member of the Troupe itself.”

Kurapika considered this for a moment, bringing his knuckles to his mouth. It wasn't an incorrect statement. “When it comes to groups that are powerful enough to challenge the Troupe and have a chance, it's really quite limited. The Bomb Devils aren't big enough – and it's not like we've been able to identify them anyway. The Shadow Beasts are a solid bet, but we have information that they're not currently in Tokyo. The Chimera Ants... currently, they're a wild card. It could be them, if it's a ghoul organization.”

“The Ants are focused on expansion right now,” Leorio said, waving his hand. From all of their intel, it was correct in a simplistic way. The main faction of the Ants were fairly straightforward in their goal of subjugating first the thirteenth ward and then, presumably, the rest of Tokyo at the very least. They had other priorities over threatening the Troupe. “They're not unified enough to conduct a raid.”

“Maybe, but because they're not unified any sub-group could decide that it's worth the gamble.” The other factions scattering outwards from the thirteenth ward were much more vague in their ambitions – some seemed to simply be fleeing from the new leader, while others were interested in starting their own hierarchies with themselves at the top. The only thing they knew for certain was that the system the Chimera Ants had been working under for years had been shattered and abandoned over the span of a few months.

“Either way,” Senritsu started hesitantly, putting her hands on her knees, “The details of the missing captives aren't known yet, and without more information all we can do is speculate. I believe it's a poor decision to spend an extensive amount of time and energy on that, compared to focusing on the situation we know enough about to act on.”

Leorio thought about that for a moment, before nodding. “It's not like it's my case to get unnaturally absorbed in. But you will, so I'll agree. Leave it. Deal with what you can deal with, and don't sweat the shit you can't handle just yet. Don't bite off more than you can chew. And, take a nap for once in your goddamn life.”

The Ants seemed like a solid lead, but the other two were right. There wasn't enough information at their disposal yet, and so it was to some degree a fool's errand to pursue it. The priorities had to be the things they could do. And yet...

If another group was getting in the Troupe's way, Kurapika could surely use that to his advantage. All there was to do there was to observe the situation and find his chance. But was it enough to bank on? Certainly not with how little he knew, but perhaps if Source 17 were slightly more forthcoming...

“I'll consider it,” Kurapika said.


	29. Chapter 29

“There's just lots of things that don't make sense to me,” Gon said, even as he reached back to throw the rock. Killua watched him for a moment, rolling a flat stone between his own fingers. It had been cheaper than they'd expected to take the Kashima Rinkai line down to Oarai. They'd spent the day there, roaming the pebbled beaches, even as the sun began to set. Saturday with Gon, walking the shoreline. It was nice. It let him forget all the shit happening in his life.

“Like what?” The rock flew out of Gon's hands, skipping across the water. It only managed two skips before sinking into the tide. Scoffing, Gon bent to pick up another.

“Well, I mean! I was thinking about Ging again.” Gon turned to face him, and rather than reply immediately Killua merely threw his own rock. It skipped – once, twice, thrice – and was lost beneath the waves.

“It always comes down to Ging in some weird way,” he retorted, putting his hands in the pockets of his swim trunks. Killua shrugged his shoulder a little, looking at Gon. “You know, one of these days you'll have to stop being so vague.”

“Maybe. I meant, I guess... I don't know what I meant. I don't know why I brought it up. Lately, I've just been seeing all these ways people use the CCG. Kurapika wants to kill ghouls, but only specific ones. Once all of them are dead, what will he do? Will he still be an investigator? Leorio is using the monetary compensation from the CCG to fund himself for medical school.” Gon threw another rock, watching it skip. Four, that time. “I guess I was wondering if Ging was doing something like that.”

“That just occurred to you, huh? The idea that people were exploiting the CCG for stuff. The organization is pretty desperate, I think. Especially with what's going on in the thirteenth ward, it's probably stupidly easy to use them.”

“Yeah. And also, I think we do things in dumb ways sometimes. Not us specifically. Like, people.”

Killua felt like they'd had some similar kind of conversation lately, but Gon was right. “That's basically how it always works. We're this epitome of intelligence as a species, right? That's the kind of thing that sets humans – and ghouls I guess – apart from most other animals. Now that I think about it, that's really weird. Why are humans and ghouls so similar? Not just the way they look – we're almost indistinguishable. That must have taken centuries of evolution, and why? To blend in? That's insane.”

“Hmm. Ow!” Gon yanked his foot up suddenly, rubbing it. A tiny rock fell from it, leaving a deep indent. It hadn't broken the skin though, and Gon pressed his thumb against it. “Sorry. I stepped on a really pointy pebble. I heard the other day, though, that some people think humans and ghouls have a really recent common ancestor or even that they're like a subset of humanity. I mean! Did you know we have the same number of chromosomes? We don't have that with apes, I think. I guess technically we're apes too. If we could interbreed, I think we'd be the same species.”

“Nah,” Killua said, after thinking about it for a long moment. He'd never even heard of that happening. It didn't make any sense. Ghouls just had different dietary needs. And Gon's thought was really stupid from a scientific standpoint, so there was no way he could let that go. “I mean, loads of animals can crossbreed successfully. Some big cats, like lions and tigers. I think zebras and horses can too. But they're not the same species just because of that, and the offspring that comes out of it's not going to be capable of reproducing. No matter how you look at it, they're different species and you're an idiot.”

“I guess,” Gon said reluctantly, setting his foot back down. “Well, no, I'm not an idiot! You're mean. I guess it doesn't really matter. Maybe. Anyway, you said something about... what did you say? About humans being really smart from a... species standpoint.”

“Yeah, no. I don't know where I was going with that.” It took him a moment to mentally backtrack through the conversation. Killua threw a rock in the meantime, and it didn't skip at all. “How am I getting worse at this? Wait, I remembered. Compared to other animals we're really fucking smart, like ridiculously smart. Humans _and_ ghouls, yeah. Our brains are insanely huge. But we're really stupid in loads of ways despite that.”

Gon looked at him for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip. Then he nodded. “You can be really, really smart, but that doesn't mean you know or understand everything I guess. That makes sense. I think, actually, it'd be kind of scary if we could. But things would definitely be easier.”

“I think we'd be worse off. No matter how much you understand other people, it doesn't make it so that you don't have to do the things you need to. In that sort of situation, all that would happen is you'd be really tormented by it.” Pausing, Killua thought about it again. It was strange how often they got onto tangents like that. Being able to think critically about things wasn't always good, Killua figured. It just meant getting lost in hypotheticals and questions that had no good answers. That was easy to get stuck on. “I guess, this is assuming that with knowing everything it means you know what other people are thinking and feeling. Knowing you had to do something that would hurt someone else, and being able to understand it from their perspective. You'd end up tearing yourself apart.”

“You're right. I don't know what I'd do if there was something I really wanted or needed to do, but the only way I could do it was to hurt someone.” Gon's frown gave him a bad feeling. Whatever the other boy was considering wasn't good. Killua was glad he couldn't read Gon's mind in that moment. “I think, also, knowing what other people were thinking would be sort of uncomfortable. You'd never have any privacy.”

“Plus, who knows what you'd see there? I mean, take us for instance. Your mind's probably a really weird place. Like, super weird. I'd go crazy just from trying to sort things out in there.” Killua laughed a little at the indignant expression on Gon's face. Then it changed to a smile smiled, and he threw another rock out.

“I bet it's the same for you. Killua's brain is probably _really_ scary. It's better this way. Or, it would be if we would be honest with each other more. That's scary too, though. You never know how someone will react.” Gon hummed a little, crouching down to pick out another stone. They were running out of flat stones that were big enough to skip, Killua thought. A crab scuttled out of the way of Gon's hand, pointing its claws at him as if to deter him. “Like, what if I did something that you would hate? And I had to tell you about it, not knowing what you would do or say. That'd be scary. Or! Leorio wants to be a doctor. But you know that means seeing lots of people die. If he was honest all the time, I think, his patients and their families would hate him.”

“Well, yeah. Anyone would lash out at the guy who tells them one of their loved ones isn't going to make it.” That stuck in his throat like a clump of rice. Gon didn't seem to notice, wrapped up in his thoughts. So self-centered. He'd picked an oblivious person to love, Killua thought. “You'd have to do something really fucking wild for me to be really angry with you, I think. We're good at working stuff out, aren't we? Besides, I always knew you were selfish, so don't I always forgive you?”

“That's probably bad.” Gon flipped a rock over, his toes digging into the sand and pebbles. For a moment the expression on his face looked pained, but then it melted back into a careless smile. “You know, I am really selfish. Killua lets me get away with lots of things, and I don't know if that's good or not. I feel like it can't be good, but I like the way things are anyway. That's probably selfish too.”

“You're like this perpetual motion machine based entirely on stubborn self-centered behavior, you know. 'Killua, let's go to the beach tomorrow!' What if I'd had some other plans?”

“You could have said no! Hey, if you didn't want to come you shouldn't have. I was thinking about this before, but... we do all sorts of stuff, and you always say yes. I think, probably, you don't always want to do the things I want to do. But you don't say no. Why is that?”

It was a good question, and it surprised him that Gon was aware enough to think about it. “Why not? I mean... I guess I sort of learned that if I go somewhere with you, something interesting will happen no matter what. And also, can you imagine if you went alone to something? Without me there to keep you from doing something stupid? You'd die doing something stupid like chasing a cat.” He bent down next to Gon, reaching for a rock. Once he'd flipped it, Killua saw that the bottom wasn't flat at all. He clicked his tongue, frowning. “Besides, who else would go with you? You never ask anyone but me.”

“Well...”

They paused for a long, long moment. There had only been one other person that Gon would have asked, and he wasn't around to ask anymore. Killua remembered Zushi's face, and his chest felt hollow.

“Anyway, it's not like I'd say no. I always have fun, don't I?”

“Yeah, you're right. And, I'm happy when I'm with you. So I think it's okay.”

"... me too."

 "I started playing a new video game. I think you would like it." Gon reached for a rock, sighing at how rough it was under his fingers. 

"Yeah?" Killua squinted at the beach below him. The sunset was starting to fade into darkness, the sun seeming to sink below the waves. "I'll get better than you at it and kick your ass into the dirt until you explode."

"Nah, you can't. It's a one-life system. If you die, you have to make a new character, so it's a really big challenge."

"Ohh. Then, I'll get better at it than you, and kick your ass into the dirt, but like, gently. With love. And probably a big sword. And magic. Is there magic?"

"Well, yeah. If there wasn't, there's no way you'd want to play it and I wouldn't even bring it up."

"Okay, that's fair."

Killua's fingers curled around a mercifully flat stone, and Gon's fingers overlapped his. For a moment neither of them moved. Gon's hand was warm, Killua thought, in the moment before Gon jerked it back. "Sorry! I guess that one's yours."

"Um. Yeah, I guess. So, er." He was grateful for that fading sunset, but also annoyed by it. It made it hard for Gon to see the way he blushed, but at the same time he couldn't really tell if Gon was flushed as well. "The game, what's it about?"

"Oh! It's that one that came out a few weeks ago, you know? The remake of that really old console game that they made into an MMO. It's kinda cool, the whole thing is about beating certain monsters and doing quests and stuff to collect special items. You have to collect them all to unlock the final boss, or, maybe it's a quest. No one really seems to know yet."

"Gon."

"Yeah?"

"You didn't tell me what it's _called_."

"... oh, you're right." Gon grinned a little, scratching his cheek and getting sand on it. "Sorry. It's Greed Island, you know? Greed Island."


	30. Chapter 30

Lately, Hisoka thought, Illumi had been positively miserable. It wasn't even in a fun way – there was nothing to be gained from poking and prodding at him. He'd have to look for amusement in other ways. The problem was that, for once, he had too many options, none of which seemed appealing. Who to visit? It had been ages since he'd heard the sharpness that entered Killua's voice when they spoke, but it was harder and harder to find the boy alone these days. Certainly, that didn't wholly restrain his efforts. It just made Hisoka less inclined to make them. Putting two of his interests together was interesting to think about, but unfortunately was a poor choice.

After all, it would be so boring to end it now. He wanted to see what would happen.

He had been favoring the CCG as well. It seemed like it was time to let the trail go cold for them, at least for a bit. Giving everything to the doves was boring as well. Soon, perhaps, he'd make contact with the lovely little foreign boy with the angry eyes. But until then, Hisoka would space out his trail of breadcrumbs.

That left him with only one place to go, really.

 

“Hisoka's in town,” Machi said, her nose twisted up in a grimace. Shalnark looked up from his laptop for a moment, humming in response. He was in a good mood, even with that information. Hisoka didn't bother him, after all. “We should probably expect him to drop in with no warning whatsoever.”

“Well, isn't that just what he's like?” Shalnark said, before grinning at the screen in front of him. “Ah, Machi, look at this picture, the cat in it sorta looks like Uvo-chan.”

“You said you were trying to bypass the network security,” Machi said, though she looked over anyway. Shalnark shrugged, his eyes bright. Her eyebrows knitted together. “It does look like him. Shit. But he'd never let anyone hold him like that.”

“Right? Anyway, I already wrote a program for it so all I can do is wait for it to finish running. It could be a while, you know? I keep telling you it's not like in movies.” He tapped his feet against the ground, swaying a little in his seat. No matter how many times Shalnark tried to explain that, it never seemed to get through that most of the time it was a waiting game. That wasn't exciting, after all. It wasn't like most ghouls had any traditional education; movies and media dictated so much about what they knew. Sometimes that made it hard for him to deal with them.

“Yeah, I know.” Machi sat down on the couch with a thump, putting her arms up behind her head. Despite her words, Shalnark knew she didn't really get it. That was why it was his job, after all. At least she wasn't as bad as Shizuku, who forgot almost instantly no matter how patiently he explained things to her. The only other member of the group who had any inkling of what he was doing or how he did it was Pakunoda. She would be back soon, Shalnark thought; she'd sent him a text only a few minutes ago saying she was on her way. “Aren't you getting sloppy? It seems like the Doves are starting to catch on.”

Even though that stung his pride a little, Shalnark only shrugged. He wasn't the weak link, and he wasn't going to let anyone accuse him of being it. “Aw, don't be like that. My work's flawless. It's someone else.”

He heard Machi take in a breath, and knew that she'd heard something he hadn't just yet. A moment later, though, it was obvious - high-heels gave a woman a very distinct footstep.

“If you're going to be suspicious of anyone,” Pakunoda said, her hand on her hip as she stood in the doorway, “Wouldn't it be Hisoka himself?”

Machi's face twisted back into a scowl. The mere though of Hisoka annoyed her. Shalnark couldn't blame her for it; the ghoul was coming on too strong and not realizing his advances were unwanted. Or maybe he just didn't care, but it seemed like he was just being stupid about it. Hisoka should have known better. Mostly, he should have been more observant.

The sound of Pakunoda's voice brightened his mood a little, though. He held his arms out expectantly, wiggling his fingers in an attempt to entice her over to him first. “Welcome back! How did things go?”

Pakunoda didn't reply for a minute, her heels clacking on the floor as she walked over to him. One of her hands found his shoulder, and he tilted his face up as she brushed his hair away from his forehead to kiss it. Shalnark let his arms wind around her waist, his nose brushing against the hem of her top. He thought if he looked down at the right angle he would be able to see her navel. The first thing Pakunoda always did when coming into one of their hideouts was to unbutton almost all of the buttons of her suit jacket, after all. It was stranger to _not_ see a generous portion of her breasts. “Nobunaga and Phinks are on their way. I had to help Shizuku check into her hotel room, and we're waiting on Feitan still.”

“Again? He always grumbles about meeting up and ignores messages.” Machi leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand. Pakunoda sighed a little, and Shalnark scratched his cheek before clicking over to the tab with the picture of the cat.

“He's sulking.”

“Feitan's always sulking. Is it because they took the little ones he wanted?”

“Maybe.”

That topic made Shalnark uncomfortable - not just the mention of the missing merchandise. Pakunoda seemed just as eager to get away from it.

“Paku, look, doesn't this cat look like Uvo-chan?” The startled laugh that came out of her was nice. He pressed his face against her stomach, taking a deep, sighing breath. Pakunoda always smelled so good. “Ah, I'm refreshed now.”

“Oh, would you cut it out? She's not your mom.” Machi clicked her tongue at him. Ignoring the jab, Shalnark rubbed his forehead against Pakunoda. It made her breasts wobble a little, resting on the top of his head. “Shalnark.”

“Mmmmm. Are you jealous? Paku's really comfy, it's like touching her recharges my batteries.” Pakunoda's hand stroked his hair back, and he let go with a cheerful smile. “Okay, okay. Back to work.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Machi uncrossed and re-crossed her legs, and Shalnark turned in his seat to face his laptop again. Probably any second now, he thought, checking his program impatiently. Line after line of text loaded down the screen, giving him absolutely nothing to work with. He might have to revise the code. Either way, things weren't going as smoothly as he'd thought with cracking the Nostrade family's security network.

“C'mere, baby,” Pakunoda said, and Shalnark knew she was crooking a finger at Machi. Machi laughed a little in response, and he heard the wet smack of a kiss.

Hisoka was so stupid, Shalnark thought.

“Is now really the time?” He asked, resisting the impulse to roll his eyes. “Oh! Did Shizuku's injury heal?”

“Yes, she's fine now. I doubt she even remembers it.”

“Hmmm.” Shizuku never remembered anything. Shalnark drummed his fingers against the table. He wished he was in his own apartment, where he could just leave the laptop to continue its work while he played on his desktop computer. It wasn't like he could play games on a computer that was running that code. He'd miss when it was done.

Plus, the computer he was using right now didn't have the right kind of graphics card. It was pretty cheap, all things considered. But it did its job, and Shalnark couldn't be in his own apartment. The last thing he needed was the CCG knocking on his doorstep. It was better to do things like this – renting a hotel room or using a net cafe. That wasn't a perfect solution, but...

“Did Nobunaga say anything about the Ants?” Machi's voice was a little quieter than usual, revealing her irritation with the situation. There was a long pause, but Shalnark didn't turn to look at Pakunoda's expression. Instead, he stared at the screen, silently urging it to show him that the program had found a vulnerability.

“He said he hadn't encountered any more of them,” Pakunoda replied after a while, her shoe tapping against the floor. “Phinks killed some a few days ago, though. There's so many that our options are fairly limited. I'm not sure what the danchou is planning just yet.”

“So, no idea as to where the missing merchandise is still.”

“No. We have too many possible targets. It's possible that we'll simply strike out in all directions, but our priority is securing the new target. Chrollo really wants this one, so we'll deliver as always.”

“I'm working on it,” Shalnark said, his fingers digging into his cheek as he leaned on his hand. The amount of time the program had been running was bothering him. He should have had something by now. “Someone's trying really hard to keep this girl under wraps – or they just have good security.”

“Well, keep at it.” At least Pakunoda was polite about things. Shalnark nodded, chewing on the tip of his thumb. He was forgetting someone, he thought. Uvogin would show up sooner or later, he knew. The ghoul was raring for a fight, so he would be on board in an instant for the acquisition of more goods. That wasn't a concern.

“Where's Franklin right now? You said he responded to the messages. Is he coming?” Machi supplied the answer easily, and Shalnark nodded to himself. Of course, Franklin. If there was going to be a brawl, they'd want him there.

“He's on the train right now. As soon as Feitan responds, we'll have a team put together.”

“Hmm. So, it'll be me, Uvogin, Phinks, Feitan... you said Shizuku was here already, so I'll assume she's part of things as well. Kortopi is staying at base I'm sure. Franklin is with us. We'll need Shalnark, obviously, or we're not getting in. Then, maybe... Nobunaga?”

“Yes.” Shalnark heard Pakunoda's skirt rustle as she crossed her legs. “Bonolenov won't be here in time, and I'll remain at base with the danchou. When everyone has assembled, we'll go over more details.”

At the bottom of his screen, Shalnark saw the alert pop up. Finally, he thought. The system the Nostrade family was using was so utterly bizarre. No wonder it had taken so long to find an exploitable weakness. As his eyes scanned the code, he squinted. That was workable, maybe.

“Bingo,” he said cheerfully, spinning the laptop around. It wasn't exactly the way they did it in movies, as he told them over and over. But it didn't mean he'd pass up the opportunity for a one-liner. “We're in.”


	31. Chapter 31

“Gon.” It seemed to startle the other boy, and Killua narrowed his eyes when Gon jumped a little in his seat. His homework sat in front of him on the counter, not even half done. “You're super spacey lately. What the hell?”

Gon fiddled with his pencil, scribbling circles in his notebook. “You know, Killua... I'm not really smart about a lot of things, and I'm bad at telling how people feel sometimes. I make loads of assumptions, too – some things seem obvious to me that aren't to other people, and it's hard for me to figure that out. Er...”

Killua blinked at him slowly, suddenly lost. Gon went on about things that only made sense to him all the time, but he'd never shown awareness of it before. The idea of Gon becoming more perceptive seemed almost comically improbable, but it wasn't as if it weren't the case on his end as well. More than ever, Killua had found himself seeing things he hadn't before, and he'd found himself wanting to do things he hadn't before. The way Gon's face changed day after day was something he'd never noticed before, at least not consciously. The subtle variations in his scent, the way his eyes looked. Things about Gon changed in tiny, almost unnoticeable ways. And he was noticing them now.

It had been nearly two weeks since his sixteenth birthday, and things had only gotten more ambiguous between them.

Gon's constant anxious energy was almost annoying. If it didn't worry him so much, Killua thought he might have reached out and yanked the pencil out of Gon's hands to keep him from fidgeting with it. He'd popped the eraser out at some point, and was pouring pencil lead across the counter and rolling it under his fingers.

“Yeah, I really don't get it,” Killua admitted, propping his chin up on his hand. “Use your words, Gon. I'm pretty good at figuring you out, I think, but you're being really vague even for you. Where are you going with this?”

“Well...” There was an almost inaudible snap, and Gon's fingers stopped moving. His index finger and thumb had a gray tinge to them from the pencil.

“You're gonna break all the lead and then you're gonna have to get a new pencil,” Killua informed him dully, picking up the tiny eraser nub. He dropped it in front of Gon, from low enough that it wouldn't bounce off the counter. Carefully, Gon started to put the lead back inside the pencil where it belonged. The broken piece wasn't too small that it was unusable, luckily. It'd have been a waste. “So?”

“Killua, we're... what are we?” Gon pushed the eraser back into place and set the pencil down. Killua pondered that for a moment. That question could mean so many things coming from Gon. For all he knew, it was an impending philosophical discussion about people and their place in the universe. “I mean...”

Gon's cheeks – rounder, today – reddened, and Killua felt something stir restlessly in his stomach. His mouth felt dry; the sudden urge to kiss Gon was sharp and immediate. He let his fingers curl against his face, his knuckles covering his mouth. It wasn't the first time, after all. He'd gotten good at tamping down on that desire. “Dunno what you mean.”

“What!” Gon looked for a moment like he would kick his chair back and leave, but instead he pressed his hands against the side of the counter and held on with clenching fingers. “I mean... do you... when you think about, um... that's to say... I, I mean...”

God, he wanted to lean forward and shut Gon up with his mouth. What was he going on about? Killua found his gaze drifting to Gon's lips as he spoke, and he knew he was paying more attention to the way those lips moved than he was to what was coming out of them. He'd done that the other day, too. They'd gone to the movies, but all he'd been able to really watch was Gon. Even more than the disgusting flavor of popcorn, he'd thought about Gon. Killua thought he could have kissed Gon at that point, maybe. With their breath smelling of salt and butter, and the taste of Gon's saliva on his lips... “I'm listening.”

“Killua.” He liked the way Gon's mouth looked when it was forming the syllables of his name. It made him wonder what it would be like to feel that; Gon's lips moving against his skin to whisper his name. That only brought other thoughts into his head, ones that made his already-nervous stomach lurch. “You're not _really_ listening.”

“Yeah.” As soon as the word was out of his mouth he realized what Gon had actually said, and he felt his face heat up. It was too late to take that back; he'd only proven it. “... sorry. I zoned out because you were starting to ramble.”

“I'm really serious,” Gon mumbled, reaching forward to take the pencil into his hands again. Killua slapped his own hand over Gon's wrist – the sound of him rolling that pencil around was maddening. Before he could speak to explain that, the little startled noise that came out of Gon was making his heart pound. What was wrong with him today? All he could think about was getting closer to Gon. “Killua.”

“D-don't, if you start messing with that pencil again I'm gonna hurl it across the room. It's annoying. And, you're being really...” Killua's words trailed off, and he licked his lips nervously. Gon had turned his hand over, and he was staring at Killua's palm and fingers intently. “Gon. What are you doing?”

“Killua,” Gon said, not looking up at all. For a moment Killua wanted to pull his hand away, but he also didn't want to move. The mood in the room had changed, good or bad. “When we went to the movies the other day, and the time we went and skipped rocks. The time on your birthday at the arcade, obviously, that was first. I... realized that we might not have thought they were the same thing. And, I think, that's my fault. I just went on with my assumptions and didn't even consider if you... thought that we were...”

“Dating,” Killua said quietly. Gon nodded, swallowing hard. He wouldn't meet Killua's eyes, and it was frustrating and terrifying and nerve-wracking all at once. What if he'd misinterpreted? Superimposing his desires. The need for clarification battled inside him with the fear of saying the wrong thing and ruining it.

“Did... you think that?”

“I... wasn't sure.” He realized he'd averted his eyes, and coughed quietly as he made himself face Gon. Were they dating? He thought so, but the silent unsure feeling that floated uncomfortably in the air wouldn't fade.

“Um.” Gon's lips moved wordlessly, not even forming hints to what was on his mind. He was scared, Killua realized, as the smell of adrenaline filled his nostrils. Gon was scared, scared of what he might say or think. And he was scared too – if their presumptions weren't in line, what would he do? What would Gon do? How would Gon react to the revelation that Killua, maybe, was...

Carefully, Killua pulled his fingers from Gon's wrist and let them slide up his palm instead. His heart felt like it was being squeezed, and terrified anxiety swirled in his chest and stomach. Was it okay? Even as he held his breath, Gon's fingers drifted apart to let his twine there, and he felt the faint stickiness of sweat on Gon's hand. Anxiety. Killua could hear something in the back of his mind, a rapid but muffled thumping. It wasn't his increasing heart rate, though it pounded loudly in his head.

“Gon, I...”

This was it, Killua realized. If he leaned forward now, he could close the distance between them. Gon's eyes were wide with nervousness as he looked at their interlaced fingers, and he gently squeezed Killua's palm as if he wasn't convinced it was there.

“H-hey, Killua,” Gon stammered, before taking a deep breath to calm himself. His ears were bright red, and Killua couldn't help but think it was painfully cute. He knew he could do it if he could just work up the courage to move. What was that _sound_ , echoing in his head? “I think I...”

“Yeah,” Killua whispered, not trusting his voice not to shake. He shivered when Gon's other hand found his face, his thumb brushing gently against his cheekbone. His fingers curled around Gon's, just enough to keep his hand from trembling in Gon's grip.

He realized as he felt Gon's pulse pounding beneath his skin that what he was hearing was Gon's heart racing. It was an ecstatic feeling, somehow. Killua took in a shaking breath, trying to combat the sudden dizziness in his head and chest.

“Killua, I think... I really, really like you.” Gon's voice wasn't quiet enough to hide the way it wavered. Swallowing nervously, Killua realized Gon was leaning closer to him. This was it – Gon was going to kiss him, and it wasn't going to be a fluke. He wondered if the other boy could hear the sound of his heart hammering against his ribcage. “Killua. C-can I...”

Killua ran his thumb over the heel of Gon's hand. His cheeks felt like they were on fire. Gon was so cute. It was almost unbearable, the way his eyes looked in that moment, the fullness of his slightly-parted lips, his smell. Unable to speak, Killua nodded instead.

The little sigh that came out of Gon in that moment was the sweetest sound he'd ever heard. Tilting his head into Gon's hand, Killua let his eyes close. Was it okay to be this scared and happy at the same time?

The scraping sound of a key in the lock jerked them out of their transfixed state, and the speed at which both of them flew backwards was almost enough to send them tumbling off their chairs to the ground. Killua pressed the back of his wrist over his mouth, knowing his face was red enough to use as a stoplight. Gon was just as bad, his teeth digging into his lower lip so hard Killua thought he'd break the skin. For a moment they just stared at each other, eyes wide and faces flushed.

There was nothing quite like the sudden arrival of a parent to ruin the atmosphere.

By the time Mito had walked into the apartment and called out to them, Killua had thrown himself face-down on the couch. Gon was kicking his feet against the counter, staring at the ceiling. “Welcome home, Mito-san,” he said, but the cheerfulness with which he normally greeted his mother was completely absent.

Slowly, Killua pushed himself back up off the couch cushions and prayed his face was back to its typical color. “Hey.”

“Hello,” Mito said with an air of mild suspicion. She thought they were misbehaving, Killua was sure, but he wasn't sure if they _hadn't_ been misbehaving. Awkwardness hung in the air for a moment, before Gon sighed quietly.

“Killua, I don't know how to do this math problem.”

 


	32. Chapter 32

“Shit,” Biscuit said under her breath. Gon had inherited _something_ from his father, that was clear. She'd watched the boy run three kilometers and barely break a sweat, and now he was taking a beating from one of Netero's boys without flinching.

Hanzo's fist slammed into Gon's stomach, and despite the way he choked and coughed, both of his hands immediately latched on to Hanzo's arm. For a second she thought the boy would manage to throw Hanzo over his shoulder, but his shaking legs weren't steady enough for him to get the leverage he needed. It let the man shake him off, and he stumbled backwards. A bruise was forming on his left cheek, and he already had the beginnings of a black eye on the same side. She hoped he wasn't concussed, but he wasn't backing down. It had been going on for what seemed like ages, but really had only been about twenty minutes.

Those injuries were going to be hard to explain away, she was sure. Mito Freecss wasn't going to be in the dark much longer. The fact that Mito didn't know already made her almost as angry as watching a full-grown man hitting a sixteen-year-old did. Ging Freecss should not have retained any custody of his child if he was going to allow this.

But then, Biscuit was coming to realize, even if Ging had forbidden it that wouldn't have stopped Gon. She wasn't sure if death would stop Gon. Whatever reasons the boy had, he was determined to get what he wanted and he wasn't going to even slow down. He showed up every day without fail now, and Biscuit had no idea what he was telling his friends and mother.

When she thought about it, though, she wasn't sure if Gon really _had_ friends. The relationship he had with Leorio and Kurapika was bizarre enough that she wasn't sure what to classify it as. They walked some strange line between “friends” and “co-workers”, even though it wasn't as if the latter could be accurately assigned to their situation. Gon socialized a little with some of the younger investigators – she'd seen him speaking briefly with newly-promoted first-class investigator Pokkle and his subordinate Ponzu, and he was friendly with Kite's squad of course. But none of them seemed like actual friends, just acquaintances.

From what Biscuit could tell, the closest thing he had to a friend was the boy he texted every day without fail. But she remembered seeing Gon blush at his phone and bite his lips like a lovestruck teenager earlier. That had been only minutes before agreeing to Kite's suggestion that he get in an actual confrontation. A lovestruck teenager. He probably was.

It made the fact that he was willing to go through all of what the CCG threw at him even stranger.

“You need to stop,” Hanzo said again, louder this time. He'd been trying to convince Gon to throw in the towel for the past ten minutes, but it was an abject failure. Every time he knocked the boy down, he just wobbled back to his feet. “If you don't stop, I'm going to break your arm.”

“That's fine,” Gon wheezed, clutching at his stomach. Spit and blood trailed down his chin, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. At some point his bottom lip had started bleeding, A vein twitched in Hanzo's temple. He'd started the fight off – back then, it had been sparring, but it was nothing short of a beating now – going fairly easy on Gon in an attempt to make him reconsider. Now, he was genuinely losing his composure under the unbearable onslaught of Gon's stubbornness. “A ghoul wouldn't hold back. So, you shouldn't either.”

For the fourth time in the past twenty minutes, she wanted to stop them. Kite's frown held her back. Biscuit had already made Leorio, and then even Kurapika, leave the training room. Both men had started to become unnaturally agitated, and the idea of them jumping in was unacceptable. She understood the sentiment. Anger and some fear swirled together in her stomach. There was nothing to be gained from going easy on Gon Freecss, and she knew it.

It didn't mean she liked it, and Biscuit gritted her teeth as Hanzo's wrist clamped around Gon's and he yanked the boy forward harshly. His elbow cracked down sharply near Gon's own elbow, and the sound of bone splintering drowned out Gon's grunt of pain. But he didn't scream, and for a moment Biscuit saw something like fear in Hanzo's eyes.

“I can't let this continue,” she said harshly, and Kite finally unfolded his arms from his chest to push one out in front of her. His eyes were shadowed by his hat, but his lips were set in a thin line. He wasn't enjoying this, Biscuit knew, but he thought it was necessary. It made her freeze in her tracks, if only to consider that. Kite didn't believe in going easy on people, or sugar-coating things. For Gon, that was probably the best thing he could do.

“No. Let him learn.”

Gon was Kite's responsibility, and it frustrated her so much it made her skin itch. Biscuit's eyes flicked back to the scene in front of her, and she clenched her fists. Hanzo was unhinged at this point; if it was her call to make, she'd have ordered him to stand down. His face was pale, and a bead of sweat trickled down his temple. It was clear to everyone that Gon couldn't fight back anymore, but the boy wasn't giving up.

Something about that terrified her.

Teeth gritted, Biscuit took a few short steps away from the fight. If she couldn't stop it, there was nothing else to do but walk away. She had to remind herself that she was an investigator to stop her feet. What did she get out of looking away? What was she if she averted her eyes now? After all the bodies she'd seen, the ghouls she'd put down, it disgusted her a little that this was what she couldn't stomach.

Hanzo's fist collided with Gon's chest again, and he kicked the boy in the side hard enough to send him careening into the wall. It made his legs go out from under him, and Gon hit the ground heavily. His arm was obviously broken, and he clutched at it with his other hand as he panted harshly.

“Don't get up,” Hanzo said hoarsely. Biscuit wasn't sure she blamed him for being unsettled at this point. If it had been her, what would she do? Pride was a dangerous thing. “Give up. If you stand, I _will_ hit you again.”

“Okay,” Gon replied, his voice a rasp. Letting go of his injured arm, he pushed himself up off the floor. Biscuit saw his legs trembling, and by the time he was standing it was only barely. “Come on. Hit me. I know you won't kill me. You can't kill me. So whatever you do to me, I can take it.”

Hanzo's fingers shook as they curled into fists.

Gon's back hit the wall hard enough that it rattled. When he slid down to the floor, Biscuit knew he was barely conscious. The sound of Hanzo's fist hitting the wall was almost as loud, and he shook his hand as he walked away. His fingers were probably broken, but the wincing scowl on his face had nothing to do with that pain.

“I'm done,” he said sharply, looking directly at Kite. The man's face was impassive, and Biscuit swore under her breath as she turned back to Gon. The boy looked dazed, but his lips curled into a little smile as his eyes tracked Hanzo's retreating back. “I'm done. I'm not doing this anymore. He's insane. And he's damn lucky.”

Kite made a noncommittal noise, and directed his gaze towards Gon. Somehow, he seemed satisfied with what he'd seen. Not happy, but satisfied. Biscuit wondered what he'd been expecting. Gon had proven something, but she wasn't sure what. Determination, maybe. The strength of his ambitions.

“ _I want to be strong enough to protect everyone.”_

Biscuit thought that had been a lie.

Gon was selfish. That's what he'd proven. Selfish enough to let himself be pummeled for the sake of advancing towards his goals. Selfish enough that backing down wasn't even an option in his head. Gon's selfishness knew no bounds. He was a terrifying little boy, and they were handing him the weapons with which he would surely kill himself.

There wasn't much she could do about that anymore.

“Did you learn something?” Kite asked the boy, and though Gon's eyes were unfocused he was beaming. Biscuit wasn't sure if he was nodding, or if he just couldn't keep his head up anymore. It was entirely possible that it was both. Now, Biscuit thought, he was probably concussed. “Good. Can you stand?”

“No,” Gon said, his fingers curling around his broken arm. He made an effort anyway, pushing himself against the wall in an attempt to slide back up it. When his legs went out from under him he grunted, and for a moment Gon only looked at his feet. “Kite, can I have my phone? I... gotta send a text, so, they know... I won't be home, for...”

His words trailed off with a little sigh, and that was when Biscuit realized the boy had passed out. Somehow, she was glad for it. That meant, at least, she could get him some medical attention.

And maybe it would give her some time to call his mother.

When she looked at Gon again, though, something akin to horror stabbed into her heart. She whirled to face Kite, who met her eyes almost impassively.

He said nothing for a long moment, and they stared at one another as the silence stretched out.

“I can't believe you allowed this,” Biscuit whispered finally. “I can't believe you didn't _consult_ me.”

Kite's eyes were on Gon now, watching his chest rise and fall with each breath. “He's young. I know. Ging was young, and look at him.”

“Ging never did this.”

“I'm the one who gave him permission, so I am responsible. But look at that boy and tell me he would have stopped for an instant. I forbade him from using it in anything but a serious fight, and he's obeyed that. He's not ready yet, but if we don't guide him through this he _will_ do it on his own and he _will_ die.”

“You bastard. You're right. You _bastard._ ”

 


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! It's been a while. Life got a little busy for me lately. I don't plan on snapping back into a hugely active update schedule for the fic just yet, because I've been sort of unable to write lately. But I should be back to work soon enough, I think.

“How _dare_ you do this,” Mito hissed into the phone, her fingers tightening on it so hard that Leorio thought the plastic might crack. Gon's mother was furious, and he couldn't blame her for being upset. Behind them, Kurapika crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair. Gon was still asleep. That was probably for the best. He couldn't imagine Mito could rip into Ging with Gon listening. “You can't do this. You didn't consult me at all. I will _sue you_ for child endangerment, you _bastard_. Ging _._ Do not hang up on me! _Ging Freecss do not hang up th-_ ugh!”

Based on the noise that came out of her, the call was over. Mito slammed the phone back onto the receiver loud enough that it startled Kurapika, whose eye flashed red for the briefest moment. He had trouble controlling his kakugan when he was surprised by something. It came with practice, Leorio figured. He himself had more trouble activating it in the first place – any of the things that had come with the implanted kakuhou, really. He wasn't cut out to be a Quinx member, but that didn't really matter. The monetary compensation for agreeing to the procedure was what he'd been after all along.

Gon's eyebrows twitched, and he looked like he was trying to roll over onto his side. That wasn't happening. So soon after surgery, there was no way he was going anywhere, even a few inches. One of Kurapika's hands traced a line down his cheek, over the minuscule remainders of his injuries. Too fast, they'd started to vanish.

Gon's nostrils flared a little, but he didn't wake up. In fact, he seemed to settle a little after that. Kurapika sighed, pulling his hand back and bringing it up to his mouth as he took in the sight before him.

“He's astoundingly well-suited for it,” he admitted, even as his jaw set in displeasure. Somewhere in the background, there was a little jangling noise. A phone, he thought. “Look at his face. You can hardly even tell anymore.”

Leorio didn't need to look again. The yellow tinges around Gon's eye and cheek were the only remnants of what had been a black eye only a few hours before. His arm was a different story, hidden by layers of bandages. That wouldn't heal for weeks. It was a very bad break. He wondered what Gon would say about it, how it had happened. Mito knew now, but there were others.

For a moment, it looked like Mito was seconds away from crying. Then she rallied herself, and her shoulders squared as she looked at her son. “What,” she started, before swallowing. Her fingers curled around the rail at the bottom of the hospital bed. Gon sighed in his sleep, rubbing his cheek against the pillow. “What should I expect? Will he need anything different from before?”

Kurapika took a sighing breath, tapping a finger against his knee. He'd had no idea, Leorio thought. Neither of them had. Gon was loaded with RC suppressors, enough that it was impossible to smell his implanted kakuhou. Maybe an actual ghoul would be able to sniff it out, but maybe not. “That's a very good question. For us, it wasn't very different. His appetite will increase, of course, but his dietary needs won't change. His RC cells are stable and within normal ranges for a human being. I'm not sure how long it's been since... the procedure was performed.”

“I see.” The look on her face wasn't hard to read. Fear had a distinct sort of look. Leorio couldn't blame her. Seeing Gon that way scared the hell out of him.

It was almost disturbing how quickly Gon went from completely unconscious to awake and alert. The second his eyes opened, they were fixed on Mito's face.

It was probably bad that his left eye was red and black, though.

For a moment, mother and son just stared at each other, and Gon's eye slowly returned to normal.

“Oh,” he said, and then, slightly more quietly, “Fuck.”

Leorio wasn't sure if he'd ever heard Gon swear before. It sounded wrong coming from his mouth, in that high, childish voice. Gon just didn't seem like the kind of person who would swear, when he thought about it, and that was what made it so bizarre and almost surreal.

“Gon Freecss,” Mito said coldly, and Gon made a valiant effort to yank his covers over his head. The fingers of his broken right arm only twitched, and he let out a little yelp of pain. But that seemed to clear the boy's head a little, and his eyes flicked from his mother to the doorway. It wasn't that he was looking for an escape, just trying to figure out who else was there and where he was.

“Hi, Mito-san. Sorry for saying a rude word.”

“Are you, now. That's what you're sorry for? I see.” When Mito moved, Leorio thought she might strike him. But Gon didn't even flinch as his mother's arms wound around him, and she pressed his head against her shoulder. Gon leaned into the embrace instinctively, and out of the corner of his eye, Leorio saw Kurapika look away.

“Sorry for making you worry,” Gon whispered, his uninjured arm curling around Mito's back. His eyes slid closed, and he took a few deep breaths. It looked like Gon genuinely did feel guilty. “And, sorry for being selfish.”

“You're in a lot of trouble,” Mito informed him, even as she squeezed him to her chest. Gon nodded a little, sighing softly. Behind him, Leorio heard quiet footsteps. Kurapika's head turned to the doorway, but his lack of reaction told him that it was no one they didn't know. “I know you don't think about these things, Gon, but you _need_ to. Do you know how scared I was, hearing that you were here? That you were hurt?”

“Ah,” a voice said, and then the footsteps turned away and left almost abruptly. Gon lifted his head from Mito's shoulder, and sniffed quietly, like he was annoyed. His cheeks puffed out a little. Kurapika got to his feet, pushing his chair over to offer it to Mito.

“I'm going to go,” he said quietly. “Gon, I'll talk to you later.”

Leorio frowned as he watched Kurapika walk away, his footsteps speeding up to catch up with Kite's retreating back. He'd never seen the investigator change gears so quickly. Whatever the relationship was between them, it was complicated. Gon didn't say a word, though, despite his displeasure at Kite's immediate appearance and disappearance. He'd wanted to talk to the man, Leorio was certain.

Mito frowned at the doorway as she took the seat that Kurapika had vacated. One of her hands found Gon's, and she rubbed her thumb over the boy's knuckles. The gesture seemed familiar, and Leorio wondered if he'd seen Gon do the same thing.

“I should go too,” he said, sliding his hands into his pockets. There was no point in getting in the way of a family conversation. Gon blinked at him, like he hadn't understood the words for an instant. Then he nodded. “If you need anything, you know which buttons to hit, right?”

“Yeah... Um,” Gon started, before staring down at his broken arm. He flexed his fingers, rolling his thumb around in little circles. Left arm. Gon was right-handed, luckily. “Can I have my phone?”

“Yeah,” Leorio muttered, before scooping Gon's bag up off the floor and tossing it at the foot of the bed. The speed at which Gon's hand dove into the pocket and yanked out his cell phone made it seem like he hadn't broken a limb only a few hours before. The light on the side of the phone that indicated an unread message was flickering. As Gon flipped it open, it chirped out a few tones, and the frown on the boy's face deepened. He tapped the scroll button repeatedly, and then his eyes shot to the clock on the wall. Gon's thumb paused, and then started to move.

“Mito-san,” he said, his tongue poking out between his lips as he typed something out. Kids were incredible, Leorio thought, watching Gon's thumb dance across the keypad. One handed, even. “Killua's sent me a bunch of messages. I, um... I should probably call him. Can I... have a minute? In private, maybe. Because...”

Mito's lips tightened into a thin line. Gon's cheeks flushed bright red, and Leorio looked away. Whatever was going on there was none of his business.

“Gon,” she started to say gently, and Leorio made a beeline for the door. The last thing he needed to know about was more about Gon. It made it harder to avert his eyes to the things the boy was subjecting himself to.

He knew it was already too late for that. It made him angry, seeing a kid do something so rash and permanent. What was going through that head? The more he learned, the more absurd it seemed. Leorio leaned against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. At the end of the hall, he could see Kurapika deep in conversation with the little woman from Dalzollene's squad. Senritsu, that was her name. Tiny and pudgy and oddly charming. Gentle.

It had been a while since he'd seen Kurapika's smile. Leorio wasn't sure he'd ever seen the other man smile that way, really. He realized abruptly that Kurapika had dimples, and he covered his mouth to stifle the snorting laugh. It would be rude to ruin whatever conversation was going on between them, but more importantly it'd probably just annoy the other man.

After all, Kurapika looked happy. That was a terrible thing to spoil.


	34. Chapter 34

The letters sat abandoned on her desk.

She'd left them there the moment she'd read them, too angry to look again. Calling Ging was never any good; he never answered. Mito had given up on it years ago. But it meant she couldn't scream at him for endangering his son. _Her_ son, really. More than Ging, she was Gon's parent. He'd never been around, and she resented him for it. Not for her own sake so much as for Gon's. The boy had never really asked about it, but it had to be somewhere in his mind. He had to have wondered why his father had left him to be raised by his cousin rather than being a parent to him.

Mito thought back to the desk, knowing Gon had read the letters there. He wasn't as subtle as he thought he was. Knowing that, she should have burned them, shredded them, destroyed them somehow. Kept him from following up on them.

They had been addressed to the both of them.

_To Mito Freecss and Gon Freecss,_

_This letter has been sent to inform you of a change in Special Class Investigator Ging Freecss' will and testament. As per the CCG's policies, all investigators of second-class and higher rank are encouraged to submit a will and testament. Within the business week, further documentation should arrive from the Ministry of Justice regarding the details of the changes and what actions can be taken regarding the bequeathed items._

The letters had ended up coming together in the end. If nothing else, the documentation was punctual.

_On May 5 th, Ging Freecss formally filed several changes to his legal will and testament. In it, he has listed a number of items whose ownership will be transferred to Gon Freecss (to be held by his legal guardian Mito Freecss until his 20th birthday), in the event of his death. The items are as follows (new additions denoted with an asterisk(*)):_

  * _The complete contents of one (1) storage unit rented in Ward 1, address [ ]_

  * _The complete contents of one (1) locker located in the Japanese CCG Bureau Headquarters in Ward 1_

  * _The complete contents of one (1) safe weighing 23.8kg_

  * _The complete contents of Ging Freecss' savings account; upon the event of his death, all funds will be automatically transferred to a joint savings account filed under the names of Ging Freecss and Gon Freecss, account number #[ ]_

  * _One (1) Eight Generation Honda VFR800F motorcycle*_

  * _One (1) rinkaku-equipped quinque, designation “Alluka 1/2”* Only permitted under the following conditions:_



  1. _Gon Freecss' acceptance into the ghoul investigation force of the CCG Bureau_
  2. _Following this, Gon Freecss' promotion to second-class investigator._



_Removed from the will and testament are the following items, as they are no longer in Ging Freecss' possession:_

  * _One (1) Sixth Generation Honda VFR800 motorcycle_




Under that paper was another letter, that one not an automated form with the correct terms slotted in. They had all arrived together; another letter addressed to the both of them.

_To Mito and Gon Freecss,_

_I'm writing as a response to the recent changes in Ging Freecss' will. As I'm sure you've been informed, he's bequeathed a number of items to Gon in the event of his death. Despite strong urging from multiple members of the CCG's legal staff, Ging has chosen to add a quinque to these items with the express condition of Gon's acceptance in the CCG as a second-class investigator. Without this condition being fulfilled, in the event of Ging's death the quinque will be kept under CCG ownership. Official use of the weapon by anyone other than second-class investigator Gon Freecss (in the event that he assumes this rank) will be strictly forbidden until the event of Gon Freecss' death, at which point ownership of the weapon will return to the CCG and the quinque will be re-assigned._

_The reason I am writing this is to inform you of Gon's rights in regards to ownership of this quinque. If Gon is unwilling or unable to fulfill the prerequisite conditions to gain active ownership of the quinque designated “Alluka 1/2”, upon reaching the age of majority in Japan he will be able to legally transfer ownership to the CCG's weapons' department head._

_I believe it is best to be upfront with this. I will neither condone nor condemn Ging's judgment in this decision. That said, in my experiences his intuition has typically been correct. I don't know why he's chosen to make this change to his will now, but I'm certain he won't explain it. If by some miracle he does, I will be certain to pass the information along. Enclosed is my contact information if for any reason it becomes necessary._

_Best regards,_

_Kite, Assistant Special Class_

She should have burned that one in particular. The only thing that had kept her from doing it was knowing that it might end up being what Gon wanted. Even if it was best for him to be kept away from that, there was no point to it. He was Ging's son. If he got it in his head that being an investigator was what he wanted, he would be an investigator, all logic be damned.

That was why Mito wasn't shocked to hear what he had done. But, sitting with him in the hospital as he grinned and laughed off a broken arm made her stomach twist. Knowing that he had contacted that investigator behind her back made her heart ache. She remembered when Ging had left. This wasn't quite like that, but it was close enough to scare her.

“Killua's sent me a bunch of messages. I, um... I should probably call him. Can I... have a minute? In private, maybe.” Gon's words faltered, and his reddening cheeks said volumes. "Because..."

That was another thing that Mito could only react to with dull surprise. Gon's hands twisted in his lap when he put his phone down, inhibited only slightly by the cast. “Gon,” she started, reaching forward to put one of her hands over his. She heard the other investigator – Leorio, Gon had called him – leave hurriedly. Mito was glad for it. It was the first time they'd really been alone since she'd arrived at the hospital. “You know I just want you to be happy.”

“Yeah,” Gon whispered. “Mito-san, I really do want this. And... It doesn't really make sense to me, in a lot of ways. I don't know exactly what I'm doing it for. All of it – the CCG, the Quinx, and... Killua.”

He paused again, red all the way to his ears. Mito wasn't sure if she'd ever seen him so embarrassed before. There had been all sorts of insignificant things when he was a little boy, tripping and falling or saying things without thinking about them. But nothing like this. Gon pulled his hands away from hers and covered his mouth with them, looking to the side and breaking eye contact. Mito didn't know what to say.

“Mito-san, I love Killua. Not like a friend or a brother, l-like a... you know. Boyfriend. Because he... well, he is. Er. My boyfriend. I think. That's probably uncomfortable to hear, a-and, it's embarrassing. And it's sort of scary!” Gon stopped after the admission, his eyes drifting to the ceiling. “At least, it scares me. I... don't know if Killua is scared. I never got nervous about this stuff before. I never... thought about any of this before, but. Suddenly I think about it all the time. I mean! All sorts of weird things. Like! From, just a legal standpoint, I could... I could marry Killua, you know? I could do that.”

“No, you can't,” Mito said firmly, stomping down her emotions. Gon was often prone to dumping his feelings in one huge load, and it was hard to sift through. For some reason this wasn't a surprise. She thought that maybe it was something she had expected all along, since the first time she'd seen them smile at each other. “You are sixteen years old and if I hear you seriously talking about getting married I'll ground you until you're a legal adult. _Then_ you can think about it, because I can't tell you no. But right now you are my son, and you are too young to get married. I can't undo all the things you've already chosen and done, but I can say with certainty that this is something your father won't sign off on. So for this one, my word goes.”

With that, Gon was smiling again, even though his cheeks were still pink. He scratched the tip of his nose, a little flustered. “Okay. I promise, I'll listen.”

“And don't even think about getting up to anything bad with him.”

“I don't know what that means,” Gon said, clearly knowing exactly what it meant. He hesitated for a long moment, before sighing. “Um... I don't think that's something you need to worry about.”

“I'll trust you on that. But please, _please_ be careful if you change your mind.” Mito thought about the day Ging had appeared on her doorstop with a sobbing toddler in his arms. She loved Gon with all her heart, but she wasn't sure she could go through that again.

For a moment Gon looked unsure, but then he nodded. “Are you... mad at me?"

"What do you think?" She was angry, of course. More importantly, she was terrified for him. Was he going out into the field? Was he putting himself in situations that could get him killed? How had Ging allowed this? She was too scared to ask.

"Yes," Gon said, rubbing at his knuckles with his thumb. "At least... a little bit. I'm sorry. Mito-san, I... You... won't tell Killua, right?"

For a moment, Mito looked at him critically. "He'll be very angry with you when he finds out. And you know he will, don't you?"

"Mm. I just... I think if he finds out, from someone other than me, that would be worse. Maybe. I need to figure out how to tell him myself. So, until then... please keep it a secret?" The way Gon stared at his hands worried her. He was thinking about something she didn't understand at all, she knew. His mind was somewhere else, somewhere she couldn't and didn't want to follow. "I don't do field work. That's not... if there's a situation where... if it's dangerous, I mean, right now I'm not cleared... for that. So! You don't have to worry, about that sort of thing."

"You mean I don't have to worry about it _yet_ ," she said, leaning forward on her elbows. Gon's eyes widened a little, and then his eyebrows knitted together as he nodded reluctantly. He'd thought he could sneak that past her, clearly. "Gon... why did you do this? Because you wanted to get back at them? Or is it because your father did?"

Somehow, that struck a nerve, one she hadn't known existed. The sudden hollowness in Gon's eyes was worse than when one of them had been blood-red. It was so much worse. Before Mito could backtrack, clarify, take it back, Gon was already speaking.

“I'm not like Ging,” Gon said quietly. “Well, I am. But. I never want to do things that will make Mito-san cry. And... I told myself, that if I do stuff that Ging did, I would do it better than he did. I can't... ask you not to worry. That's not fair. But. You know I can do these things, so let me do them, please. If you don't, I won't... ever learn anything about the world. I don't want to do things just because Ging did them. I want to do them because, I think, they're things that I need to do."

Mito didn't say what she wanted to say. She didn't say, “Please don't follow in his footsteps.”


	35. Chapter 35

“Bishop to 3C, and I promote,” the girl said, before wiping at her nose.

For a moment, the king didn't move. His eyes raked over the board between them, and then he sighed before bringing his hand up to his chin. Checkmate in two turns. “My loss, then.”

“Shall we play again?”

“No.” They had been playing for almost six hours, but the girl had not complained even once. It was almost impossible how calm she was while playing. By contrast, the longer he played, the more frustrated he became. The king paused for a moment, his eyes sliding from the girl and the board to the man who frowned in the doorway. That was of no importance. Shaiapouf's disapproval meant nothing to him. _He_ was the king, after all.

He looked back to the blind girl in front of him. She sniffed as quietly as she could; the whole time she had been there, her nose had been running. It was irritating. Humans were so disgusting. “You,” he said to her, before realizing that she likely couldn't tell who he was speaking to. “Girl.”

“Yes!” The way her fingers tightened in the fabric of her skirt told him she was nervous. That was good. She should be nervous in his presence.

“What is your name?”

“Oh! Komugi, is my name, i-if it pleases you.” Her manner of speech was odd as well. The king pressed his thumb against his lips, considering her. Was it a lisp or an accent? He wasn't sure. He couldn't understand so much about the human girl he had stolen.

The ghouls in the eighth ward were strong, but not strong enough to prevent his soldiers from stealing their wares. He knew the group had a name. It was so insignificant that he had already forgotten it. Shaiapouf had brought him the girl, informing him that she had been captured for her skills in a game called shogi. Based on her appearance and speech, she was foreign as well.

Komugi.

She had piqued his interest. The other humans hadn't. The investigator had been given to Pitou to do as they liked, and the diplomat was to be kept safe and captive. It was possible that he would become useful.

“Komugi, then,” the king said, frowning. Another thing that the weak little girl couldn't see. “How old are you?

“I,” she started, before sniffing hard. It made a hideous squelching noise. He hated it. He should have ordered her to blow her nose. “Am twenty-four years old, sir.”

That gave him pause, and he looked at her again. From a glance, she only appeared to be a teenager. No matter how much he looked, she seemed barely older than a child. But the idea of this cowed girl lying to him was absurd. It had to be the truth.

Malnourished in her childhood, he thought. Small and frail, blind and sickly. She was weak, so utterly weak that he could kill her without thinking about it. And he was unable to defeat her in this game of strategy. It was infuriating.

“We'll play again tomorrow,” the king said sharply, leaning against his knee. His kagune twitched at his back. “You'll be escorted to your chambers. You are to stay there until I call for you. A meal will be brought for you. Under no circumstances will you be allowed to leave. All of your needs will be attended to.”

“Y-yes, sir!” If he wanted to, he could reach out and crush her trembling throat. It would be so easy, like all the other humans he'd killed before. The way their bones cracked and their flesh tore made his mouth water. The ease at which he destroyed them was almost comical. He could kill this girl in an instant, and there would be nothing she could do about it.

One more game, the king thought. He was certain he could beat her in one more game.

 

Sobbing, she ran, one hand pressed to her mouth to keep the scream from escaping her throat. The other typed out a frantic message on her phone – more reliable than hoping for a call to go through, and she didn't trust herself to speak without shrieking uncontrollably. Her feet pounded against the asphalt.

She'd left him behind.

He'd told her to, he'd screamed himself hoarse – _run, run, you have to escape, tell the others, just please run, if you love me, run! –_ before his words were cut off by a writhing limb. Why had she done it? She should have done everything she could. There had to have been something else, some way she could have wrestled him out of the ghoul's grip, saved him, done _something._ But, blinded by fear, she had fled.

She'd left him behind. She'd _left_ him. How could she have done it?

She'd left Pokkle behind.

Sobbing, Ponzu ran.

 

“I see,” the ghoul said, smiling wide as their kagune prodded against the man's cheek. He shivered, cold sweat running down his face and neck. It had been hours since the ghoul had yanked him, limp and powerless, out of the pile of bodies he'd been hiding in.

Pokkle didn't know how they'd found him. He'd been masked in the scent of the dead, human and ghoul alike. He hadn't moved an inch; he'd barely had the strength to breathe. But the ghouls weren't done with him yet, and the questions would continue.

“And the ghouls who are used as resources, where do they go?”

“Cochlea,” he whispered hoarsely. Ponzu had gotten away, hadn't she? She'd been able to run, she was alive, she would alert the rest of the CCG. If it was too late for him, at least, Ponzu would survive. And it was too late for him, Pokkle knew. His tracer had been shattered. There was no way for the other investigators to find him, even if they were somehow able to reach the stronghold before he ran out of useful information. They'd already taken his quinque, and that was a horrific thought.

The ghoul in front of him had a catlike smile. Male or female, he couldn't tell; their face was perfectly androgynous, and it was of the least importance. That kagune – black and red, like their eyes, but with the slightest tinge of purple – ran down his cheek again. If he didn't speak, it would wriggle its way back into him through the hole they'd made in his skull, caressing his brain.

Pokkle looked up at the ceiling with only his eyes, feeling hollow. The fear was gone; he'd run out of it long ago. All that was left was numbness and despair. He could feel wetness on his cheeks still, blood or tears, he wasn't sure. For a while it was all he could do – cry and bleed as the ghoul lovingly sliced into his skull. At some point he had passed out from the pain, and he wished he would again.

He thought about Ponzu. Stupid, he'd been so stupid to let her come along. Forcing her to witness that. They hadn't known. They'd been so foolish. He thought about Ponzu's hand in his, the way her lips felt against his cheek, the faint scent of honey that followed her wherever she went. He remembered breathing it in, remembered the heat of her body as they made love. He remembered the sound of her voice when she was laughing, when she scolded him.

He remembered the unspeakable terror that gripped his heart in that instant, what felt like days ago – the fear that she would die. Not Ponzu, he'd prayed, trapped and helpless by a sticky, web-like kagune. Not Ponzu, he'd shouted, screaming at her to run, to leave him and run as fast as she could. Not Ponzu, he'd wept, even as he heard her ragged sobs fading as she fled. Ponzu was safe. She had to be safe. It was the only thing that kept him from breaking, that knowledge. Even if they took everything from him, he could die knowing that at least, he'd saved the woman he loved.

If he continued to speak, he could buy time. If he bought time, it would keep one of the Chimera Ants' most powerful soldiers away from the others, maybe for long enough that the CCG could descend upon the nest.

“They aren't killed?” The slick feeling of a bloody kagune curling against his cheek, smearing it red, made him feel nothing.

“Some,” Pokkle croaked. His throat was so dry. When had he last eaten, drank? He'd soiled himself in the beginning from the pain; he wasn't sure how long ago. They'd cleaned him up after that. It was distasteful. He couldn't find any gratitude for the tiny bit of preservation of his dignity. It would have been better to make them stew in it.

All the blood he had lost made him feel lightheaded; soon, he thought distantly, he would be too dehydrated to function any longer. “Some don't survive kakuhou extraction. S-some, are killed after the procedure, if they are considered too dangerous to have any value as prisoners. Some are kept for continuous harvestings. It, varies. From subject to subject.”

It was hard to speak. He was dying, probably. If not now, within the next day or so. There was only so much the human body could take. It felt like his hands were gone, even though he could see them chained to either side of him. Strange. It was so strange.

“I see, I see.” The ghoul leaned forward a little, their smile widening. “You've been very helpful. In fact, I think you'll be our first test subject. Wouldn't you like that?”

The words didn't reach him – he heard them, but it was just noise. Just so much noise. Slowly, Pokkle let his eyes close. She was safe. That was fine. It was okay to sleep now.

 

Ponzu gasped for breath, her thumb pressing down on the phone's keypad so hard it dug into her skin. Send, she prayed, shaking uncontrollably. Send, send, send the message, let it reach. Even as she ran, she was selecting every contact on the list. Biscuit Krueger. Cheadle Yorkshire. Ging Freecss. Morel Mackernasey. Pariston Hill. Sanbica Norton. Send. Send. Send. Send. Send. _Send_.

She barely felt it when something rose under her foot, sending her crashing to the ground. Tripped, she realized – she'd stumbled over her own feet in her haste. The phone skidded out of her hands across the pavement, even as it lit up to notify her that the message had been delivered. Ponzu sobbed in relief, wiping at her face with her wrists. If nothing else, she'd managed that much. Hysterically, she began to laugh. She'd done it. The thing she'd left him for, at least she'd been able to to that.

“Pokkle,” she sobbed, laughed, screamed. “I did it, Pokkle.”

Below the sound of her own wails, she heard a faint chuckle. It took a moment for her mind to process it – someone's voice, an unfamiliar voice. Not Pokkle's voice. Would she ever hear that voice again?

That was when Ponzu realized that there was something curling around her ankle.

She hadn't tripped at all.

The world went dark.

 


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! It's been a little while. Lately I've been having some health problems that will hopefully get sorted out soon, and then maybe I'll be able to get back to a more frequent update schedule. Until then, sorry for the long waits!

“You know,” Killua began, his arms folded over his chest as he leaned back in the plastic chair, “You're an idiot.”

Gon grinned nervously at him from the hospital bed, shrugging his shoulders a little. “Yeah. I couldn't help it, though! There was the kitten, and it looked really scared. It doesn't really hurt, though. I don't think it's a bad break.”

Leave it to Gon to fall and break his arm trying to rescue a cat. He wouldn't have bought it for a second if it were anyone else, but there was such a distressing precedent for Gon hurting himself for the sake of stranded animals. Cats, especially. Gon's soft spot for cats was almost unreal.

“That's painkillers talking. And besides.” Killua spent a moment glancing around the room, making sure no one else was around before he spoke again. “If you're going to date me, you have to stop climbing weird shit. You're lucky you broke your arm and not your face.”

“It was only a tree,” Gon protested, looking at his feet. His cheeks flushed a little from the words, though, and the smile on his face was shy and endearing. Saying the words made Killua's heart thump faster, and elated anxiety squirmed in his stomach.

Dating. That was okay, wasn't it? With all the terrible things that made up his life, he was allowed to have this. If something horrible chased him all the way to Gon, he'd just have to destroy it. It didn't stop him from worrying whenever he got the time to think about it – humans and ghouls. But Killua was selfish, almost as selfish as Gon. The knowledge of how badly it could all backfire seemed less important when Gon was around, when Gon's elbow brushed against his on the train or their fingertips touched as they walked. It wasn't important when Gon's feet slid against his under the table, hidden from Mito's eyes, or when he leaned against Gon on the couch.

Illumi's face swam in the back of his mind, but the little smile quirking Gon's lips forced it away. Gon smiling was a much better thing to think about. Gon's lips were always a better thing to think about, really, and he was thinking about them constantly. Killua wondered if finally being able to feel them against his own lips would help quell his recent obsession. The opportunity just never presented itself, to his growing frustration. In the brief moments where it seemed imminent, something always found them to interrupt the moment.

“We're dating, aren't we.” Gon's voice was full of quiet excitement, and he seemed almost giddy. Something in Killua's stomach clenched, and he wanted to shout. That was something he was able to push away from his mind, but the sudden beaming grin on his face wasn't. Killua felt his face grow warm, but it was a happy embarrassment. He felt elated, somehow.

“Yeah, we are.” He laughed a little, and it helped to relieve some of the nervous energy in him. Gon's smile widened, his eyes shining. Killua pushed himself to his feet to close the distance between the chair he'd snagged and the bed Gon was confined to. The mattress barely sank under his weight as he sat, and he pulled an exaggerated frown. “What the hell, this hospital bed is basically a rock.”

“It's not so bad,” Gon said automatically, shifting his weight a little to sit up more. Killua's hand found its way to the cast around Gon's arm, turning the limb over. It was an ugly thing to look at, but it gave him an excuse to touch Gon that wouldn't be questioned if anyone looked in on them. The nervous little giggle that came out of Gon was pretty good, too. “Sorry. It just feels weird to have someone touch it. I can sort of feel your fingers, but not really.”

“Yeah?” Carefully, he tapped a knuckle against the coarse, stiff bandages. It made a little rapping noise. “Feels like I'm knocking on a crusty sponge. You're definitely not gonna be able to crack this cast off and make it worse – is what I wanna say. I'm not gonna hold my breath, you know?”

“It's not like I break stuff a lot,” Gon protested mildly, letting his fingers curl against the cast. “It's been two years since I broke a bone, and even then it was a fracture, not a real break at all. Ah, but this is a fracture too.”

Killua brushed his fingers from Gon's elbow to his wrist, pressing his thumb against the palm of Gon's hand. “I'm gonna write something on it,” he announced with a wicked grin, throwing a leg over Gon's lap to pin him into place while he leaned across the bed to snatch up his school bag.

“Killua, don't draw something bad!” Gon wailed, kicking at Killua's leg and the blankets in an attempt to free himself without jostling his arm. Killua grinned wider, digging a highlighter out of the bag and uncapping it with a snicker. “Killua!”

“I won't draw something bad. I'm gonna draw something really, really good.” The look on Gon's face told him that the other boy didn't believe him for a second. When he leaned against Gon it was a legitimate struggle; normally, Gon could have thrown him off with ease, but with a broken arm they were both operating on restrictions. It wasn't as if Killua would ever use his full strength on Gon, after all. The gloves were always on with play-fighting, anyway. “I'm gonna draw a poop.”

“ _Killua!_ ” Gon shoved him with his right shoulder, and it made Killua's hip hit the rail on the side of the bed hard enough for it to vibrate. The entire bed trembled for a moment, and Killua threw an arm around Gon's neck to keep from falling to the floor. Gon's hand bunched in the back of his shirt to catch him as well, and their foreheads bumped together.

“Dammit, Gon,” Killua started, before Gon's nose brushed his cheek. The way they'd ended up was too suspicious, Killua thought, with Gon's right arm around his waist and his broken arm cradled between them. It would be incredibly easy for Gon to roll on top of him.

Gon seemed to realize it as well, and his lips parted slightly as he took in a surprised breath. It tickled against his face, and Killua was only barely able to keep himself from licking his lips nervously. He let his right hand rest against the cast on Gon's arm, curling his fingers around it. “Um,” Gon said, his cheeks reddening.

“Gon, I.” If he did it now, it would be okay, he knew. All he had to do was tilt his head and press his lips against Gon's. The flush on Gon's face looked nice coupled with the way his eyes had already started to close.

“It's okay,” he whispered, so close that Killua could feel the words as he spoke them. Gon smelled so good. His stomach lurched; the line between literal and metaphorical hunger was so blurred with Gon. He remembered every disturbing dream he'd had in the past month all in that instant, and his lips trembled as he froze. Killua forced the thoughts away.

He was allowed to have this, to love without guilt and fear. He was _allowed_ to kiss Gon.

“Gon,” a voice said from the doorway, and Killua wanted to scream. Whoever was there, he wanted to rip them to pieces. Once that was done, he could crush his lips against Gon's, to finally take the kiss he'd been denied too many times by circumstance.

Instead, he automatically formulated an excuse for their strange positioning by latching his hand around Gon's cast and pushing the highlighter against it. Gon howled, even though his face was still burning red. “Killua, no!”

“I'm drawing the shit and you can't stop me!” Gon elbowed him in the face, sending the marker squeaking down the cast in a wobbling line. “You _fu-_ ”

“Gon.”

The hand pressing against Killua's face to force him back fell away, and Gon's eyes lifted to the doorway. His attempts to dislodge Killua stopped instantly, and that was concerning on multiple levels.

“Ah,” Gon said, and Killua slid off the bed with a frown, turning to face whoever had interrupted them. He had no idea who was standing there – a tall, lean man, lanky even, with long silver hair and his eyes shadowed by a hat. Killua's teeth dug into his lower lip. Something about the man made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and the instinct to run coiled in his gut like a spring ready to be launched. Instead, he sat at the foot of the bed; showing he was nervous was worse than the nervousness itself. “Kite.”

The name sounded familiar, but Killua wasn't sure where he'd heard it. Gon had mentioned him, but he couldn't remember the context. Looking, though, it seemed like a solid guess that he had something to do with Gon's father. It was just a feeling he got. The way Gon straightened his back and sat up only reinforced it. Someone Gon respected, so he probably should too. He didn't want to. A jolt of adrenaline raced through him, but Killua only frowned.

Kite leaned against the door, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “Is your... mother, here?”

That told Killua that Kite knew about the somewhat atypical status of Gon's family, and also that the man was grappling with some awkwardness about it.

Gon considered this for a moment, before shaking his head. “Mito-san's talking with the nurses right now, I think.”

“I see. Why are you here, Gon?” Kite was quick to the point. That wasn't a bad thing. He wondered what the relationship between them was, why he didn't know this man that Gon referred to by name and without an honorific. His stomach felt heavy, and he forced the uncertainty out of his mind. Nervous. He was so nervous, anxiety gripping his chest like a vice.

“Before that, who are you anyway?” Killua crossed his legs, pulling his ankle over his knee. The fact that he defaulted to being rude was something he couldn't take back. Somehow he didn't think the man standing before him would care, though. His heart was beating too fast. It made it hard to compose himself. “Never seen you before. Gon, what gives?”

“Er... he worked with my dad,” Gon admitted, scratching his cheek. “I thought I mentioned him, once or twice maybe. I asked him questions, you know? About Ging. Anyway, Killua, that was rude! Ah, this is Killua. He's my...”

“The only person who keeps you alive,” Killua said sharply, rolling his eyes. He wasn't sure what Gon would have finished that sentence with – friend, best friend, boyfriend? They all fit, but Killua didn't know how comfortable he was being introduced that way. Any of them, really. None of the words encompassed their relationship, and besides that, the idea of it just being thrown out into the air for a stranger to see worried him a little. “If I'd been around, you think you would have broken your arm? Anyway, I don't wanna get in the way of Important Ging Freecss Conversations if you're gonna have them.”

“Don't be like that, Killua,” Gon said, reaching out to tug at the hem of Killua's shirt. “I want you to know stuff about Ging too, but...”

“It's ghoul stuff, right.” Killua scowled. The awkwardness that hung in the air was palpable, but Kite seemed content to let them sort it out before speaking or deciding how to act. Smart man. Astute. Definitely a high-ranking investigator. “Leave me out of it. I'm gonna talk to Mito-san about dinner. Since you're here for... however much longer. You think you'll get released tonight? It's just a broken arm, so it's not like they have to hold you hostage. So... we can have dinner.”

“I should be out soon.” Gon's voice was quiet, and his fingers fell from Killua's shirt. They brushed at his forearm, and he understood the silent apology even if he wasn't sure he could accept it just yet. The idea of Gon's secrets made him insecure, even though the ones he kept locked in his own chest were worse. Hypocritical, Killua thought, as he got to his feet.

He couldn't keep the scowl off his face as he passed Kite, but he wasn't sure why it was there. Jealousy? Anger at being interrupted yet again? Fear – both of an investigator, and what his presence meant? All of those, Killua knew, and a generous helping of displeasure at his lack of knowledge, lack of awareness. But mostly, it was that he didn't know what to do. 

Killua wanted to run. He wanted to race down the halls, out of the building, away to safety. How had he become so scared so quickly?

“Killua,” Gon started, before sighing very quietly. Killua knew without looking that he was gripping onto the bedsheets, maybe even doing the thing he did with his hands when he was nervous. “I'll talk to you later, okay? I promise.”

“Mhm.” The fear and frustration that pounded at his heart and brain hurt. By the time he'd made it down the hall and ducked into the restroom, tears that he couldn't find a reason for were streaming down his face.

 


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I don't think I'm back to 100%, but I'll hopefully be able to squeeze some chapters out. Sorry for the wait!

“How did you get this number?” It was one of the most important questions he had ever asked in his life. Kurapika's fingers curled around the phone, hard enough that it almost cracked the plastic. The voice on the other end let out a low laugh, one that made chills run down his spine. It was uncomfortable, that voice. “Answer me.”

There was no point in tracing the call. Only an idiot would be using their real phone, and someone who had been running rings around the Phantom Troupe couldn't be that much of an idiot.

“Well, isn't that the question of the day? I can't believe you asked it, knowing what you do.”

For a moment, Kurapika said nothing. He pulled the phone away from his face ever-so-slightly, enough that the man on the line wouldn't hear the deep breath he took to calm himself. Running his fingers across the pins jammed haphazardly into the map helped. “You've called for a reason, I'm sure. This isn't about pleasantries.”

“You certainly don't know that, Dove-san. I could be so very eager to chat with you. So formal, though. I was hoping to strike up a lovely conversation, though I see you're less than open to that. Perhaps you'd be more amiable face-to-face? But I fear I can't allow that.”

He hated the sound of the man's voice. It was sensual and somehow slimy. It made him feel like he was being touched, though he was alone in the room. “Mm,” he said. It felt like the only way to confirm that he was still listening without actually saying something meaningful, something that the man on the phone could latch on to.

“After all, you would certainly arrest me, if not outright kill me! A CCG investigator letting a _ghoul_ go free, well, that's unthinkable. _Unless_ , of course, your loyalties don't really lie with the CCG?”

That time, he couldn't control the change in his breathing. Kurapika heard his own breath catch, and mentally cursed himself. That had given it away, he knew – he'd given it away. Before he could even think as to what to say, the man was continuing.

“Ah, as I thought. You're not interested in protecting people, are you? You just want revenge. That's so interesting, isn't it? What will you do when you've doled out your justice?”

“I'm not sure that's any of your concern,” Kurapika said, as coolly as he could. It was good that the ghoul on the line, whoever he was, couldn't see the grimace on his face. “Do you regularly interrogate others as to their motivations in life?”

“Do I? Well, perhaps. Maybe, maybe. It may be something I'm prone to doing. Though, I'm slightly hurt. You haven't asked a _single_ thing about me other than how I was able to find this number. What is the answer to that question, though? Of course, I can't tell you. That would be no challenge at all.”

“Would you like me to ask you questions then?” That he could oblige – as carefully as he could, at least. Kurapika thought about it for a moment. He would have to pay close attention to his phrasing, to avoid giving any information while receiving it. Assuming the man was willing to answer, at least.

“But you're not interested in _me_ so much as the things I know, isn't that right.”

“That's right.”

“How cruel.”

“That's also right.”

“Oh, how _lovely_.” The sound in his ear could have been a breathy moan, but Kurapika hoped desperately that it wasn't. “You're so lovely, aren't you? A beautiful little monster of science. I'd love to fight you some time – not now, of course, not with our priorities being what they are. But, oh, yes. I'll get to the point, I suppose. I've left you a little gift, in one of the usual places. You should hurry and find it before someone else does. It's meant for you, after all. Not for the CCG at all.”

Usual places. Kurapika's mind flew to the potted plants in the lobby of the first ward offices, the window of the second floor, the tops of the revolving doors of the building. Places where notes were left.

“I see,” Kurapika said, before ending the call unceremoniously.

 

Frowning, Hisoka stared at his cell phone. “Ah,” he said.

 

“Ah,” Shalnark said, frowning in the dim light from the monitor. There was a sad little noise, and the character on the screen exploded. The words “New high score” flashed brightly, almost hurting his eyes. “I died again. Uvo, hold still, won't you?”

Uvogin's grunted reply made it clear that the other man wasn't entirely awake, or even a little awake. It didn't much matter, as Shalnark rolled over enough to rest his forearms against Uvogin's back. Moving hurt a little. There was a deep ache in his waist and core. The bites he'd left down Uvogin's neck and shoulders had already faded away – they never lasted long, unlike the damage he took each time they tumbled to the sheets. Uvogin's healing factor was disturbing, even compared to all the other members of the Troupe.

Shalnark hated the thought of just laying down at night and waiting to fall asleep. It wasn't fun at all. He'd rather occupy his attention right up until the moment where he could no longer do so. Leaning back, he found his phone and flip open to the other game he'd been playing.

“No lives yet,” he sighed, before looking back to the television. Though it seemed like it had been forever, it had only been about twenty minutes since he'd last checked it. Shalnark chewed on his lower lip, thinking. It was Wednesday, which meant he could expect Phinks and Franklin to be available at the very least. Hisoka was unreliable, as always, but Machi... and maybe some others.

He typed out a message on his phone easily – Machi would be the hardest to secure, he thought, so it was best to start early with her. Kicking his feet a little, Shalnark grinned as he hit send.

| machiii>

| up to grief???>

That would take a while, he knew. Phinks was next, and then Franklin.

|╰(✧∇✧) >

< no |

| pk???>

< yes |

| ヾ(≧∇≦*)ゝ>

“Maybe Nobunaga,” Shalnark said out loud. Before he could figure out what to type, Machi's reply came in.

< too early |

| boooooo (*`д´*) >

< stop |

| Σ(ﾟДﾟ|||) >

< ( #`⌂´)/┌┛Σ(ノ´Д`)ノ |

| ・゜・(ノД`) >

< ok 10 mins |

| ( •̀ᄇ• ́)ﻭ✧ >

That was easier than expected, Shalnark thought. Machi was usually much less personable this early in the morning. But he would take it. A few messages later, he'd secured Franklin and Nobunaga as well.

It was about that time. Shalnark hummed a little, his thumbs tapping against the controller. Machi would be on in a few minutes at the earliest, but there was no reason not to load up and get settled in beforehand. It took a few seconds to cycle through the games and find what he was looking for, but then the start menu for Greed Island was blinking cheerfully at him.

Grinning, he hit start.

 


	38. Chapter 38

“ _Killu,” Illumi said, firm but soft enough that Killua knew he wasn't mad. Like Illumi could even get mad. The idea was laughable._

_Killua ground his teeth, pulling his knees up to his chest. His kagune lashed behind him, circling his body like a barrier. The last thing he wanted to do was speak with his family. “Go away.”_

“ _You have to stop this. Eat your dinner. You're going to get sick.”_

“ _Go_ away _!” The way his voice cracked made it even worse, and he caged himself in with his kagune more. The plate Illumi held in his hands was piled high with grilled meat, and the smell made his stomach growl. “I won't, not until you get her back. Tell mom that, I won't touch it until Alluka's back and safe!”_

_He heard Illumi set the dish down on the table, but otherwise he stayed where he was. Killua wanted to yank the covers over his head and block Illumi from his sight. Eventually, he knew, his brother would force him to eat. “You know we can't do that. It's impossible.”_

“ _Shut up,” Killua whispered. His head ached, and he remembered Alluka's tear-stained face. That was all he'd thought about for the past six days, locking himself away in his room and trying not to cry loud enough that anyone could hear. “Don't.”_

“ _You know better, Killu. Mother is distraught. She's been begging Father to speak with you.”_

“ _That's fine,” Killua shot back, finally looking up. His father was the only one who understood, he thought. It had been a long time since he'd even seen the man. It wasn't that he was distant, just busy. Leading a double life was time-consuming, Killua knew. The only reason they were alive was because of that, because no one knew the Zoldyck family consisted solely of ghouls. “Dad's fine. You, you have to leave.”_

“ _Alluka is_ dead _, Killu.”_

“ _Shut up!”_

“ _There's no point in turning away from the truth. You can't hide from it. Alluka is dead and there is nothing you can do about it. You've already failed.”_

“ _Shut up,” Killua whispered. The words felt worse than any blade. It was true. He was deluding himself; Illumi was right and there was no point. There was no point in what he was doing, but what else was there? He hated it, hated them. “You were supposed to protect her. All of you. You're, you...”_

“ _It's too late.”_

The memory still stung. He'd attacked Illumi after that, he recalled – or maybe that had been another time that Illumi had tried to to force him into facing the truth. They all blended together now, hazy memories of a helpless child, lashing out in grief. There had been no logic to it, no finesse. But the cold look in Illumi's eyes had stalled him long enough for one thin hand to grab at his head, slamming him to the floor. Illumi could still easily crush him, Killua was sure. Even though he was stronger, faster, Illumi could always beat him.

He was still too scared of his brother to move.

“Hey, Killua?” Gon's hand brushed against his when the train lurched, just barely. It still made his heart skip a beat, Killua noted; surely, he'd be as infatuated with Gon on his death bed as he was now. Raising his eyebrows, he glanced at the other boy.

“Yeah.”

“Um. I don't know. I just... you looked sort of distant. I'm sorry. You're really mad about yesterday, aren't you.”

They hadn't ended up talking about it, not yet. Even though they should have, instead he had avoided the topic, going home on his own. School had been no place to talk about it either. Of course Gon thought he was furious.

The most infuriating part was himself, Killua knew. The second doubt slipped into his mind, it began to wreak havoc. Did Kite know who he was? Had Gon mentioned him at all to the man? Even though he knew there was at least an innocent reason why he didn't know Kite at all, his insecurities and fears were already spinning in his head.

He'd made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with ghouls and investigators, so it only made sense that Gon would try to keep that out of their conversation. So of course he wouldn't have mentioned Kite. But before, Gon had never been so aware of his dislike, at least not enough to slow his selfishness long enough to stop talking about it. Even knowing Killua's disdain for the topic, Gon always plowed ahead carelessly as things caught his interest. So selfish, but Killua was the same.

Killua realized he was still mad, but at the same time he realized it was baseless. Gon didn't have any obligation to share every detail of his life, even if it hurt to know the boy was keeping secrets from him. The hypocritical juxtaposition of his desire to monopolize Gon and the things he himself hid away was too much. It made him sick with self-loathing. Logic had no place, warring futilely against his spiraling emotions.

He looked at Gon's broken arm, held loosely against his chest in its sling. It was lucky that Gon wasn't left-handed like him, Killua thought. He couldn't imagine taking all of Gon's notes for him; it was barely within his capabilities to take his own. Gon was so much better at paying attention in class; but then, when he focused on something, it was hard to pull his attention _away_.

At least he'd always be superior in mathematics if only barely, Killua thought. Seeing Gon short-circuit at the sight of exponential equations was cute.

“I'm not mad,” Killua said, realizing he hadn't responded. Then he frowned, shaking his head. “Yeah, no. I'm mad, I'm super frustrated. But you're always like this, aren't you? And I'm still here.”

The train rumbled a little, jostling the inhabitants again as it rolled to a stop to pick up more passengers. The smell of a ghoul tickled at Killua's nostrils, faint but then stronger. It was hard to keep from whipping his head around to search for the source; it would be too obvious. He sighed and half-turned away, legitimate irritation and stress mixed with an excuse to look around. Killua lazily scanned the crowded train car, looking before anything else for briefcases. It wasn't the right hour for businessmen to be packing the train, after all, and the smell of a quinque was indistinguishable from a living ghoul at anything but the closest proximity. His eyes drifted over the sea of people as they settled in – a girl with round glasses that slipped down her nose as she read her book, a huge man who kept his eyes shut even as he smiled good-naturedly. Across the car, a woman with dyed pink hair was frowning in her quiet conversation with a dour looking man who wore his hair in something resembling a topknot. Not a briefcase in sight, nor anything else he thought a quinque could fit in.

After that, he'd have to keep an eye out for Illumi's long, black hair, or the bright red of Hisoka. He couldn't risk letting Hisoka get so close again, not with Gon right next to him. Who else? His mother, maybe, but he knew she would leave things to Illumi before leaving home herself. Not Hisoka. Not Illumi. Killua didn't relax. It wasn't as if all quinques were large enough to need a special case. Small knives, guns with RC suppressor rounds, those could be easily concealed. A hassled looking older man glanced at him when he sighed again, and he directed his attention back to Gon for a moment.

Whoever it was, they wouldn't take the risk of attacking on a packed train car. There was no room for movement, too easy to be trapped. Even an investigator wouldn't be able to act. Still, it was nerve-wracking. Had the source of the smell noticed him, caught wind of his own scent?

Gon's fingers tugged gently at his shirt, and the guilty look on his face made Killua's stomach lurch. “Killua, I'm sorry,” he mumbled, and Killua couldn't help but put his hand over Gon's.

“It's okay,” he sighed, wanting to trace his fingers over Gon's knuckles, down his fingers, across his palm. The train was so full at that point that their school bags and the bulkiness of Gon's cast completely blocked all view of their intertwined fingers. “I'm just... you know, it took me off-guard.”

“I... Mito-san's not gonna be home until late, since she left early yesterday. Since... you know.” Gon lifted his broken arm a little, then let it fall back down to rest in the sling. They were close enough that the motion brought the cast to brush across his chest, but not so close that Gon couldn't move the arm. When Killua thought about it, Mito had left before he'd even arrived that morning. “So... we can talk. A-and, maybe, we can get pizza tonight? Er... I won't get mushrooms, I promise.”

“I'll shove them up your nose if you do,” Killua snorted, leaning against Gon's shoulder as much as he could without attracting attention. It made Gon laugh, and his fingers squeezed Killua's.

When the train finally slid into their station, the sky had turned overcast. Gon's fingers fell from his, but they latched around his wrist. “Killua,” he said, glancing back as he pulled Killua with him off the platform. They were both glad to leave, Killua thought; he'd get to leave the ghoul on the train behind, and they'd be able to escape the press of the crowd. Gon let go of him with an air of regret, one he shared. “It looks like it's gonna rain, huh.”

“Yeah.” Neither of them had an umbrella, he knew; the weather forecast hadn't predicted rain. If they hurried, it might not be a concern. It wasn't as if he had any reason to stall getting home, at least. If Mito wouldn't be home, they had...

All night, he realized. He had all night with Gon, potentially. It made his cheeks flush, and suddenly Gon's mild bout of stammering early made sense. That took away his ability to speak, and for a moment they just walked down the sidewalk together in silence.

“Ah,” Gon said, holding out his hand palm-first. “Killua, I just felt a little bit of rain, I think... oh, no!”

Gon froze for a split second, his eyes widening. Then he was breaking out into a sprint, and Killua gaped for a moment before racing to keep up. Their feet pounded against the pavement as the rain started to fall, cold droplets that splashed against his face. He couldn't understand what had made Gon take off, but it wasn't as if he could just ask while running.

When Gon squeaked to a halt in front of the door to the apartment, already clumsily rummaging in his bag for the key, Killua realized what it had been about. The key scraped against the door as Gon unlocked it, dashing across the kitchen and throwing the sliding glass door open. The tiny balcony there was already drenched, and Gon pulled the laundry inside with a little wail of disappointment.

“We were too slow,” he said, defeated. Killua wiped at his forehead, closing the front door behind him as the rain turned to a downpour.

“Did you leave any windows open?” He asked, kicking his wet shoes off. “I'll get them, you handle the laundry.”

Gon thought about it for a second, yanking in the wet clothes and shaking them out. “I don't think so, but Mito-san might have. She was in a rush this morning.”

Killua was already padding down the hall in his socks, tugging his uniform shirt off. He was glad for the faded red undershirt he was wearing, even if the front of it was a little damp since he wore his uniform open. It meant the cold, wet clothes didn't touch him as he checked for open windows.

It didn't take long, but by the time he made it back, Gon had already pulled his own shoes off and was toweling his hair one-handed in the bathroom.

“Killua, come here. Your hair's all wet, you'll get sick.”

“What are you, my mom?” Despite the protest, he let Gon throw a fresh towel over his head without flinching. “Here, let me do it for you. Your arm, you know?”

Gon hummed a little, before nodding. It didn't take him long to squeeze the water out of Gon's hair; they hadn't gotten too wet in the end. As he pulled the towel away Gon's right hand found his cheek, brushing away the wet strands of hair there. It tickled, and Killua felt himself jump a little under the gentle touch. Gon laughed, not moving his hand away. “Did I surprise you? You really jumped.”

He wanted to say something to defend the reaction, but nothing came to mind. Gon's eyes flicked downward slightly from his own, breaking their held gaze. Before he even comprehended it, Gon's hand on his cheek was guiding him forward.

Instinctively, he closed his eyes, and Gon's lips finally met his.

 


	39. Chapter 39

Standing there in the bathroom, with Gon's hand on his neck and their lips still only centimeters apart, Killua began to laugh. Nervously at first, his blood still singing in his veins, and then louder, more confidently. For a moment Gon looked startled, his already-red cheeks darkening in color. And then he began to grin as well, and despite the cast, his arms wrapped firmly around Killua's waist to pull him off his feet. It made Killua squawk in surprise, and he grabbed at Gon's shoulders with both hands as the other boy spun him in a circle. The towel that had been draped over Gon's damp hair fell to the ground, forgotten.

Gon's laugh was a good sound, and his smile was a good sight. Gon had kissed him. He'd kissed Gon back. He couldn't help the laughter bubbling out of him, even as he offered up feeble protests. Killua licked his lips, wondering if they were chapped. Gon's had been soft.

“Gon, cut it out!”

“No way!”

“It's super embarrassing, come on!” Despite Killua's words, he hoped Gon would never put him down. “Gon, that's so unfair!”

He wanted to kiss Gon again. He wanted to never stop kissing Gon, to stay the way they were and forget about all the bad things in their lives, to feel Gon's arms around him and spin in place and laugh. Killua wrapped his legs around Gon's waist, his arms curling around the other boy's neck and shoulders. It made Gon stumble a little, suddenly off balance, and they bumped against the sink together. The sudden flustered expression Gon gave him only made him grin harder.

“ _You're_ unfair,” Gon said, and his smile was so wide that it looked like it had to be hurting his cheeks. “Doing stuff like that is unfair! Killua's so cute, it just makes me wanna...”

“Yeah? I'm _cute_? You wanna go?” He ran a hand through Gon's hair, tugging his head back, and brought their lips back together. “I'll fucking fight you,” he said against Gon's lips, before kissing him again.

For a long moment it was all they did, Gon holding him against the sink, their arms around each other. Gon's lips parted under his, and suddenly everything was sloppy, open-mouthed kisses and nervous laughter. Killua let more of his weight drop against the porcelain of the sink, so that Gon wasn't supporting him entirely. It sort of irritated him how easily Gon could pick him up, but at the same time it was exciting to be held like that. One of his hands found Gon's cheek, then the other. The mere thought of letting go was ridiculous.

Against his chest he could feel Gon's heartbeat hammering, and his own was racing in turn.

Kissing Gon felt good; his mouth tasted good and he smelled good and the little sighs that came out of his mouth sounded good – everything about it was good. He wasn't even afraid that he'd do something bad out of instinct, which was a welcome surprise. Even with Gon's tongue in his mouth and the taste of their mixed saliva, Killua realized the only hunger he felt was metaphorical.

“You're cute,” Gon mumbled against him, and it seemed almost like he was moments from wriggling with excitement. “I don't really get it at all.”

“What, me being cute? Me neither, stupid.”

“No, not that! It's true, though.” The way Gon licked his lips made Killua want to lean forward and claim them again. He realized with some delight that there was nothing stopping him from doing so. Mito wouldn't be home until late that evening, Gon had said. There was no one else to worry about.

“I mean,” Gon continued when their lips had parted again, before sighing and pressing his cheek against Killua's collarbone. “I didn't think it was possible to like someone so much. But I do! I like you so much that I don't feel like I know anything anymore! It's really exciting, but also kind of scary. Does that make sense?”

Killua took a moment to consider the words, and he kissed Gon's forehead just because it was there. It made Gon snort a little in laughter, and he wondered if it tickled. “Yeah. Yeah, it does. Because it's like... everything's really, you know, different, but it's really not. I mean... you're you, same as always, and I'm me, but now we're... _us,_ and that's super weird and it's really wild.”

“And that's good, right?”

“It's so good. It's great.”

“Good. I'm... I'm really happy, you know? Killua. I'm really happy when I'm with you.” Gon said things like that so plainly, without holding back. It made his cheeks feel so hot that they burned, and his chest felt pleasantly tight.

“I,” he said, stuttering the word. That was even more embarrassing, and he coughed a little. “Me too. I really...”

“I like Killua so much. And! You like me too. So I'm really happy and I'm really nervous and I!” Gon pulled his face away to look back up at him, his eyes sparkling. “Killua, I really, _really_ like y-”

“Shut up!” Killua stammered, before kissing Gon once more to cut his words off. It hurt his neck a little, but he didn't care. He liked the way the other boy looked when they parted, his expression almost dazed. “You're so embarrassing.”

“Yeah,” Gon said, flushing again. It was so nice that Killua never wanted to look away. He ran his hand down Gon's bicep, grinning at the way it made him bite at his lips. “Ah, Killua.”

“Mm?” Killua's fingers paused as they reached the cast that encased Gon's arm. It made him think about the hospital – about Kite, about the CCG, about all the things Gon might be hiding from him. It burned in his throat like bile, and he forced it away. He wouldn't let those thoughts ruin this moment. “Gon, hey. What's up?”

“Hehe. Sorry, it just kind of... I don't know. I like when you touch me. It's nice. I like touching you too – I like holding your hand a lot, and I like being close like this.” Gon's hand found his, his thumb rubbing over Killua's palm. “It's... really nice.”

“Shit,” Killua said, before covering his mouth with the back of the hand that wasn't firmly grasped in Gon's. If Gon said something like that, there was no way he couldn't read into it. But that wasn't the kind of touching Gon meant and he knew it. That didn't stop him from needing to take a deep breath and settle himself. “That's so... you're so...”

“Hm?”

Killua sighed a little, letting his shoulders relax. “How can you just _say_ stuff like that?”

Gon hummed a little before bringing Killua's hand to his cheek. He was still red, and his skin felt warm under Killua's fingers. Gon was so cute that he didn't know how he could stand it. “Because it's true. I mean! It's embarrassing, but I still wanna say it.”

“You're so weird.” He curled his fingers against Gon's face, his thumb brushing against his cheekbone. Gon could always say the things he was too embarrassed to say. Killua was almost a little jealous of that.

From down the hall, he heard a phone start to ring. It made Gon pause with his mouth open to speak, and he frowned – almost a pout – as he pulled away from Killua. “It's probably Mito-san.”

“Yeah.” Killua hoped it was, because the other options sounded less pleasant. Even so, he hoped just as much that it wasn't Mito saying she would be home on time after all. That seemed almost as bad.

He followed Gon out of the bathroom and down the hall anyway. They'd been in the bathroom all that time, he realized with mild embarrassment. Out of all the places that could have happened, it seemed so ridiculous. Killua thought maybe that was fitting, though. Gon was ridiculous, after all, so it only made sense to have something so meaningful – a first kiss – in the middle of a bathroom.

It wasn't really their first kiss, though. That was something else he didn't want to think about, and he forced it away like the rest.

“Hi, Mito-san,” Gon was saying as he crouched to pick his bag off the ground. Killua could hear Mito's voice faintly, not loud enough that he could make out what the woman was saying. “Mhm, we're – yeah, Killua's here too.”

Gon's eyes slid over to him, and Killua scratched the back of his neck. The grin Gon leveled at him told him they were fine, at least until the expression dropped away to one of shock. Before he could say anything, Gon was already speaking again.

“Ah. I'm sorry! I ran the whole way, but it was too late and it got rained on. It's not too bad, but... Okay. No, we're fine. Me and Killua are gonna get pizza.” Gon's fingers played with the strap of his bag, and he nodded even though there was no point to it. It wasn't as if Mito could see him. Killua almost laughed at him for it. “Yes, Mito-san. Okay, bye.”

Gon let out a heavy breath when he closed his phone again, and Killua snorted a little. Instead of responding to that, Gon stuck his tongue out. He took a moment to just appreciate that reaction, scratching his cheek. “So...”

“She just wanted to make sure I brought the laundry in,” Gon said finally, fidgeting with his cast and the sling it rested in. Killua looked to the couch, covered in wet laundry. That had been a failure, but he didn't really care. “I guess I should hang that up.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

They spent a few moments collecting the laundry and hanging it up, Gon dashing down the hall to reclaim one of the forgotten towels to set on the floor under the dripping fabric. It was something he could do without thinking about it, just sitting on the couch with Gon and putting laundry on hangers.

“Hey, Killua...” Gon started, setting down a wet sock on the arm of the couch. His hand found Killua's knee as he leaned over, and for a moment Killua thought Gon would kiss him again. “I'm sorry.”

Killua blinked in confusion, before furrowing his brow. “For what?”

“I promised, you know? That we'd talk.” The feeling of Gon's thumb rubbing over his kneecap was somehow comfortable, and he scowled a little. He didn't want to talk, really, even though it was important that they did so. “And I guess, we didn't. But... Right now, I just wanna kiss Killua. I really though, you know, we'd never get to. Stuff kept happening, and I was getting really frustrated! I just... really wanted to kiss you, a lot.”

That brought a startled laugh out of him, and Killua smiled. He'd finally gotten what he'd been longing for, for what seemed like months. It was nice to know Gon had been just as impatient. “Yeah, me too. I mean... not... you know what I mean.”

“Oh,” Gon said quietly, a blush spreading across his cheeks again. Unable to help himself, Killua leaned forward to press his lips against Gon's.

“Go order the pizza,” he said, and Gon nodded with a beaming grin.

 


	40. Chapter 40

Killua tried with all his might to keep from screaming, his teeth biting into his tongue so hard that his mouth filled with blood. Panic hammered inside him alongside his heartbeat, his racing pulse only worsening the feeling of dread inside. Adrenaline made him feel dizzy, and he wanted nothing more than to run.

He couldn't. He was trapped, pushed into the corner of the living room – Gon's apartment, the place that was his real home – with no escape route. The only way to go was forward, and forward was...

At his feet, streaks of blood and dark red footprints stained the carpet.

Killua could hear Mito's harsh breathing, practically sobs of pain. Where was Gon? Not home, Gon wasn't home, but Mito was... Her hands pressed uselessly against her chest and abdomen, trying to close the gaping hole there. He knew from the gurgling sound that came with each breath that one of her lungs had to have deflated, and there was nothing he could do.

“That's your fault,” the figure in front of him said dispassionately. There was no attachment or regret in his voice, despite the blood that dripped down his fingers. “She'll die, of course. Humans are fragile, after all. You know that.”

Shivering, Killua met the dark eyes that stared him down. Completely black, with no emotion. Dull and uncaring. “N-no. You did it, I didn't-”

“Killua,” Mito gasped, and one of her hands reached out to him before dropping to the carpet. She couldn't move anymore, too crippled by the pain. Killua wanted to scream, to push forward and run to her, to fix her, fix what he'd done. His eyes burned.

“She didn't know, huh? Diving in front of a ghoul to try and shield him... stupid woman. You let a human get too close, and now she'll die because you cared about her, because she cared about you. He'll die too, you know. That's what happens when you love someone. They'll always go away...”

The rasping breath had stopped, and Killua felt the tears spill from his eyes. _Mom_ , he thought, but she was already gone, bled out on the floor of her own home. And the person who had done it...

Killua flinched away from the bloody hand that cupped his cheek. “Why do you keep trying?”

“Stop it.”

“Zushi died, because you weren't observant enough.”

“Stop, don't-”

“Mito-san died, because she wanted to save you.”

“Shut u-”

“Alluka died, because you didn't protect her.”

“ _Shut up!”_

“Gon will die too, because you love him.”

Blood spilled from his lips from his bitten tongue as he said those words, and Killua lunged forward to wrap his hands around his neck. They slammed against the floor together, squishing wetly against the bloody carpeting.

“He'll die,” Killua said again, tears streaming down his cheeks, even though the pain didn't reach those dead, black eyes. Illumi's eyes. “He'll die, because we love him.”

“Shut up,” Killua snarled, his fingers digging into the pale skin of his own throat. His breathing was harsh, but he didn't let go even as he felt his windpipe being crushed. Laying there, strangling himself to death, what else could he do?

The eyes that looked at him were blue, and the him that had killed Mito smiled. His twitching fingers found Killua's neck, resting there lightly, almost lovingly. “You have to stop caring.”

“No,” Killua gasped.

The other him closed his eyes, and he squeezed harder. It hurt, hurt so badly that he could barely see, barely breathe. Would he destroy himself like this? How could he do it? If he did, then...

Dark brown eyes looked up at him. “You shouldn't, though,” he said.

“No, I-”

“I love Killua, so I'll die if you do. If you go away, I'll die.”

“I,” Killua sobbed, tears dripping from his cheeks to splatter softly against the him with Gon's eyes – no, the Gon with his face. It wasn't really him anymore. He couldn't feel the pressure on his neck. His fingers loosened their grip. “I don't want this.”

“That's awful,” Gon said quietly, sighing. “You already did it, so it's too late. You know, you betrayed them.”

“I didn't.”

“You did.”

“No.”

“You did. You made Zushi think he was safe. You brought something deadly into Mito-san's home. You let go of Alluka's hand.”

“I _didn't_ -”

“You did.”

“I...”

“Did.”

“I did, but I-”

“It doesn't matter if you didn't mean to.”

“But, I!”

“How do you think I'll die?”

“Gon, no.”

“How will you kill me?”

Smiling, Gon tilted his head up to press their lips together. Killua squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want to look. He didn't want to see the way Gon's eyes had changed, brilliant red irises, sharply contrasting on black. Ghoul eyes.

Gon's mouth tasted like nothing but blood.

“Stop,” Killua mumbled, fingers gripping tightly. He licked his lips – nothing. No blood, no pressure from Gon's mouth. Just... nothing.

He opened his eyes and was greeted only by darkness. For a moment, fear raced through him – and then he realized what he should have already known.

“Stupid,” he said aloud, half-sitting in his bed. He'd had a death grip on his pillow, and his fingers hurt from clenching them so hard. Killua was glad no one had seen him, that he was alone.

Alone.

He wasn't glad at all.

The last thing he wanted was to actually be alone. But the him in his dream had been right; everyone went away, eventually...

“ _Onii-chan, aren't they people?”_ Alluka had asked. Talking about humans, the way she did. She always liked to talk about them, even when she'd been so young that she played with her food. It was a strange sort of juxtaposition, he thought. Playing with food. But it was normal behavior for a child, even healthy. The only way to keep sane was to distance from the horrific revelation of what “food” meant for a ghoul. She hadn't been able to do it, in the end. Realizing that had almost broken her. 

People. They were just people, all of them. Even him.

If he hadn't agreed, would she be beside him? She always believed whatever he said, after all. Would he still be alone if he had lied?

It was a stupid question, since it didn't matter in the slightest. Killua pulled his legs up to his chest, resting his chin on his knees. He didn't know what time it was, and he didn't care to look. It didn't matter. 

At night, so little seemed to matter. He wanted to text Gon, but it wasn't as if the other boy would wake and see the message. Gon wouldn't go away, no matter what happened... Gon wouldn't leave. Somehow, he knew that was the truth, and it helped quell the anxiety that made his chest feel too tight to breathe. It helped him calm down.

Besides, he needed to eat. Killua swallowed hard, looking up at the ceiling. It was too hot in his room, but it was probably just as hot outside. Late in the night, or early in the morning... someone had to be out, someone whose blood and flesh would fill his stomach and sate his foul appetite.

Hunting ghouls kept him in top form, if nothing else. He would take that silver lining.

Sighing, Killua got out of bed.

 


	41. Chapter 41

“An internship? _Really_?” Killua leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand. Gon scratched at the back of his head, shrugging. It didn't seem like him, so there had to be something else to it. He set his glass of water down, eying Gon critically.

“Well...” The way Gon's eyebrows furrowed together as he tapped his thumb against his own glass. “It's like... I know you wouldn't like it, so I didn't want to tell you.”

“Because it's with the CCG.” It wasn't a question – Gon had already said that much. An internship with the CCG. And Gon was right, in that he didn't like it at all.

“Mhm... So I kept sort of, trying to avoid it. Even though I knew that it was bad and I couldn't keep it up! I'm sorry. I thought I would have figured out how to tell you, because I didn't want Killua to find out some other way and get mad.” Gon chewed on his lower lip, clearly in thought.

Still, it was sort of a relief to know what was going on. Even if his paranoia wasn't completely set to rest, the fact that Gon was talking to him about it was good. “You're lucky I'm in a good mood, or else I'd deck you for hiding this from me.”

For a split second, something like pain filled Gon's eyes. And then it was gone, so quickly that he thought he'd imagined it. Killua knew he hadn't. After a moment, Gon sighed.

“Killua, I... feel really bad about it. I kept thinking about how much I didn't like it, because going around behind your back is... So I want to tell you the truth. Even though, you know...” Gon rubbed at his knuckles, looking down and then back up again to Killua. “Having an ulterior motive doesn't stop the fact that I'm technically working for the CCG.”

“You could just bombard Ging with letters, you know.”

“I could. But! I feel like he's just as stubborn as I am, so we'd get stuck, you know? I would send letters and call and he would ignore them and it would just keep going like that. I don't think I would give up, but I would rather make it so he doesn't have a chance to ignore me. I want to know, so I should learn what I can myself before going after him.”

“You have sauce on your cheek,” Killua said after a moment, reaching out to wipe it away with his thumb. Gon laughed a little, catching his hand and licking the smear of tomato sauce away. It meant Killua didn't have to do it, so that was good. But it also meant his face was as red as a stoplight. “Shit, you little... You can't distract me like that, you didn't answer all my questions yet.”

“Mm. Okay, okay... what else did you ask? Oh! How often I have to go, right. It's Tuesdays and Thursdays after school, and most of the day on Saturday... Mito-san isn't really happy about it either, but she didn't say I can't do it. Plus, it's paid, even if it's not a lot. So I can buy you stuff.”

That made Killua squint for a moment. “I have plenty of money. My parents are loaded, you idio- oh.” He leaned across the table to pinch Gon's nose, ignoring the stuttered noise he got in response. “I'm not your girlfriend, stupid! You don't have to buy me shit.”

“But,” Gon started, and Killua scowled as he let go. Gon rubbed his nose, frowning stubbornly. “Of course you're not, but I still want to sort of... that's something you do, right? That's a... boyfriend thing. Oh, but...”

“I'm also a boyfriend,” Killua said flatly, before snorting in laughter. Gon's face reddened, and he nodded a little. “You didn't think about it, did you.”

“That's... I mean, if we're both... who...” Frowning again in genuine thought, Gon's cheeks puffed out in a pout. “Like... if we go out on a date, you know... Ah, that's if you want to do that, I mean...”

Killua reached over the table again to flick Gon's forehead. “Stuuuupid. Of course I do!”

“Well I mean! Sorry. What I mean is like... say we go out and... I mean... if we go out and go to the movies or something, then who...”

“Oh. _Oh_. So, if I'm... and _you're_... who pays the bill.” He thought about it for a moment, licking his lips in confusion. “Wait.”

“Hmm...”

“Gon.”

“Yeah?”

“You're so dumb. What did we do last time we went to the movies?”

Gon considered this, looking up at the ceiling as he tried to remember. “... oh.”

“So, what are we going to do?”

“... each pay for ourselves...”

“There you go.”

For a moment, Gon looked like he might protest it. Then he sighed, sliding his hand across the table to find Killua's. The way Gon looked at him – soft and determined at the same time – was oddly nerve-wracking. Silence stretched between them, and Killua felt his heart start to pound.

“Killua,” Gon said slowly. Swallowing hard, Killua nodded. “I'm sorry. I feel bad about lying to you and hiding stuff from you. I know I do a lot of stuff without really thinking about it, because I just go with my gut instinct. Sometimes it takes me a while to realize that it could hurt Killua, or Mito-san, or...”

Killua turned his hand over, letting his fingers curl around Gon's. “... hey. I'm not...”

“But you _were_ really mad. I know you were mad, and I know I upset you, and I probably...” Gon looked down at his cast, his cheeks turning red in something that wasn't really embarrassment. “I probably, am going to keep upsetting you. Even though that's wrong of me, I know that I won't...”

“I know. I know you won't change.” He squeezed Gon's hand tightly, trying to keep the frown off his face. If he kissed Gon, maybe it would be enough to get off that topic. Killua thought that would be okay. “Sometimes you're super annoying and frustrating. And I totally want to smack you one for hiding stuff from me, you know? But...”

“I'm really selfish,” Gon said firmly, and it wasn't an apology. “I should feel bad about that, but I don't. I'm really selfish and I want Killua even though I know I'm going to do things that aren't fair and that are mean and will hurt you. I want you anyway.”

“Gon, I.” Killua sighed, leaning again to rest his chin in the hand that wasn't holding Gon's. Gon, wanting him. That was... “Quit it, I already knew all of this. You don't have to say that stuff. If it really bothered me that you were like this, do you think I'd be hanging around here, holding your hand and thinking about kissing your stupid face?”

Silence spread between them, and before Killua could think of anything else that he could say to try and cover up how embarrassing his words were, Gon's lips turned up into a grin. “You're thinking about kissing me.”

“W-well, I!” Killua covered his mouth with his fingers, trying to pull his hand away from Gon's. The other boy gripped harder, his smile widening. It almost hurt; Gon didn't know his own strength anymore. But the idea that he didn't want to let go... His cheeks felt hot, and his heartbeat fluttered anxiously. “Gon, come on.”

“No, no. Killua, you wanna kiss?” It was impossible to not watch the way Gon's lips moved when he spoke, and Killua knew his desires were completely transparent.

“That's... that's really...” But Gon was already getting to his feet, his face red and eyes sparkling with excitement. Killua wanted to cover his face with both hands, if only to hide how embarrassed he was. Gon was as limited as he was, though, with one arm still trapped in its sling as he bent to bring their faces together. “Gon, oh my god.”

He really did want to kiss Gon. It was something he thought about all the time.

“Killua, you wanna?” Gon's breath tickled at his lips, and Killua didn't give him the chance to speak again. Surprised, Gon let go of him, and that let Killua grab at his face and neck with both hands. Their lips parted with a wet smack, and Killua grinned. The shocked expression on Gon's face was nice, and he leaned forward to press messy kisses across his cheeks and nose. “Killua!”

“Mm, too bad,” Killua said, punctuating each word with another kiss. The laugh that came out of Gon was almost a giggle, and he squirmed a little in Killua's grasp. “You put yourself in range, so you reap what you sow.”

“Ah, Killua, it tickles, quit it!”

“No way, you mess with me all the time. Come here.”

Gon's hand found his chest, his fingers curling into the fabric of Killua's shirt. Something in his face had changed a little – darker, regretful.

Killua didn't want to tease him anymore.

“Gon,” he started, before closing his mouth again. As Killua tried to think of what to say, Gon climbed into his lap, pressing firmly against him. It hurt his broken arm, Killua was sure, but Gon didn't even flinch. “Hey?”

“Hey... I'm... are you... when I first kissed you, are you... upset about that at all?”

Even though he knew exactly what the other boy meant, Killua hoped he was wrong about it. “You mean because it was in the bathroom? I thought about it, yeah, but-”

“I don't mean that.”

Killua remembered Gon's harsh breathing, how rough his lips had been, the wetness of tears on both of their cheeks, running down to drip from their chins. It made him think about the blood that had spilled from Zushi's lips, and he felt cold.

Of course Gon still thought about it.

“... I know.”

 


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry for the wait!

“What the fuck,” Killua said loudly, as the words “PLAYER 1 WINS” flashed on the screen. Gon half-turned and grinned at him, his eyes shining the way they did when he was trying not to laugh. It was the sixth round they'd played, and Gon was utterly destroying him. “What did you do, mess with my controller or something? You're never this good at fighting games.”

“Isn't it just that you're having a bad day and I'm having a really good one?” Leaning forward, Gon rested his chin on Killua's shoulder. Killua snorted, rolling his eyes. One of his hands found the back of Gon's head, running through his hair and ruffling it a little. “Killua, you were going easy on me at first, right? I could tell.”

“You just got the cast off,” he grumbled, and Gon kissed his neck with a little laugh. It tickled, and he got the sudden the urge to yank the other boy's head back for it. That only seemed to encourage him, and his arms wrapped around Killua's middle. It was awkward because of the way their bodies were, and Killua shifted in Gon's grip until they were facing each other more. “Man, you're cheating.”

“What? No way! Plus, how would you even cheat in Heaven's Arena?” Gon's lips found his cheek next with a wet smack, and Killua couldn't help his smile. He let his arms curl around Gon's neck and shoulders, his eyes lidded a little.

“I didn't mean in the game, stupid.” Gon let out a quiet 'oh' of understanding, before beaming again and kissing his lips. Opening his mouth was becoming an automatic response to Gon kissing him, one that Gon seemed to enjoy. His arms tightened, and for a moment Killua thought the other boy would push him down. “Ah, shit, Gon.”

“Mm. Oh! Um... Killua.” Something in Gon's voice was a little apologetic, making him frown. The arms around his waist loosened again, Gon's fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt. His expression had become reluctant. “Mito-san might be home soon, so...”

“You wanna stop?”

“What? No! I mean... out in the open, is.”

“ _Oh_. Shit, right. Okay. You, uh...” Killua's words trailed off as Gon finally let go of him, though he was clearly unhappy about it. But when Gon got to his feet, he was already pulling at Killua's hands. It was endearing and exciting all at once, Gon's enthusiasm.

“My room, you know?” Gon's cheeks were flushed, and it sent a shiver down his spine. He practically scrambled to stand, even as he blushed in embarrassment at his obvious eagerness. That didn't seem to bother Gon at all, and he happily tugged Killua all the way down the hall to his bedroom.

It was a thrilling surprise when Gon threw him to the sheets, sending him bouncing even as the other boy crawled on top of him. The door clicked shut behind them seconds before Gon's lips met his, and Killua hoped wildly that he wasn't having another dream that would end in sticky shorts. He wasn't sure if it mattered – if he was dreaming, he might as well enjoy it. His arms wound around Gon's neck again, tugging him close. They could write over the bad memories, Killua thought, and paint them in different colors.

Gon's lips parted against his, fabric rustling as he took a fistful of the sheets. A quiet sigh escaped him to be lost in Gon's mouth as they kissed. Both of them had gotten better at it, past nervousness and mostly past bumping noses and clacking teeth. At first, Killua hadn't even considered that they were bad at it, but now that he was halfway _good_ at it the difference was astounding.

Shuddering a little, Gon pressed harder against him. The hand that wasn't tangled in the blankets was on his cheek and jaw now, almost guiding his head as their mouths moved together. It was a little awkward, but Killua didn't care. Everything about Gon's actions seem to scream out his desire to get closer. He pulled one arm from around Gon, reaching down to cup his ass and delighting in the slight hitch in the other boy's breathing. It was encouraging, and Killua let his other hand drift down to join the first.

They stayed like that for a while, Gon's lips on his as their tongues played together. The mingled taste of their mixed saliva was somehow sweet, and he couldn't help the way his heart raced. Gon had to be able to feel the pounding of his pulse, how excited he was.

“Killua,” he whispered in the brief second their mouths were parted, his breath hot against Killua's lips. Something like arousal twinged in Killua's stomach and abdomen. He groaned, his eyebrows drawing together. The desire to touch Gon burned in his veins, and he wondered if Gon felt the same way. It felt like he was melting in a way. Gathering his courage, Killua rolled Gon over. When Gon's lips curled into a grin against his, it filled him with a sense of relief.

“Fuck,” Killua mumbled, not caring that his voice was muffled enough to be unclear. Gon certainly understood the sentiment. Both of his hands were on Killua's jaw now, cupping his face and holding him still. If he wasn't careful, he knew Gon would end up with an erection poking into his hip. Killua took a deep breath, and decided to gamble.

Gon's hand dropped from his cheek, and gently pulled Killua's hand out of his shorts. The spark of excitement in his stomach and groin was quickly extinguished. “No,” he said, without a trace of hesitation in his voice. Killua felt his cheeks heat, enough that it felt like they were on fire. “I don't want to do that.”

“Okay.” His response was barely audible, and Killua cleared his throat before repeating the word. His hands shook, and he let them rest at Gon's sides instead of touching him. “Okay. Yeah.”

Gon drew back a little, just enough to rest his forehead against Killua's neck. He should have asked, Killua thought bitterly. What would it have hurt to ask? His wrong move had changed the mood.

But it seemed like Gon had only been catching his breath, and his lips pressed firmly against Killua's again. His startled gasp was lost, and he let his eyes drift closed again. Gon wasn't upset with him at all despite the mistake. It brought another thought to his mind, and Killua tugged at the back of Gon's shirt to tell him to stop.

“I,” Killua stuttered, his voice cracking embarrassingly. “Sorry. I wanna make sure we're, uh. On the same page. You don't wanna do it at all, or right now? It's just, either way is... cool with me. I just, wanna make sure I know. And. That I don't do stuff you don't like.”

His face creasing in a frown, Gon hummed as if in thought. “Um... at all, I think. I... like when you... I mean.” Gon was rolling him back over to straddle him, and Killua let his head drop to the pillows with a sharp inhalation. One of Gon's hands found his, and drew it to rest on his ass again. “I like this. But...” Then he was dragging Killua's hand to his front to press against his groin, and then pulling it away again. “Not this. And not... anything more than that.”

“R-right. Right. Cool. Gon, if I... do something you don't like...” A finger pressed against his lips, and Gon grinned at him. He didn't seem embarrassed at all, which helped calm his racing heart.

“I told you this time, didn't I? So I'll do it again if it happens.” And then Gon was kissing him again, his tongue running across Killua's lips to coax him into opening his mouth. Even then, the other boy was speaking between messy kisses. “Sorry, Killua, but even if you want to do it, I won't. Not unless I want to do it. But I... probably won't want to.”

“That's,” Killua managed, his hands rising to rest at the small of Gon's back. His face was still flushed, but so was Gon's and that made it feel okay. “I'm not upset about it. It doesn't _change_ anything, y-you know? I can handle myself. _I mean_! E-er...”

That made Gon laugh, his eyes seeming to sparkle as he bumped their foreheads together. “Can you?”

“Dammit, Gon.” They were both laughing when their lips met again in a quick peck, even as Killua scoffed in embarrassment. “Not sure if I wanna discuss my masturbation habits with you, dating or not.”

“Haha, so you _do_ do it. Okay, okay. I won't ask.”

“Like you wanna know,” Killua groused, and Gon rolled off him to lay on his side. It trapped one of Killua's arms under him, and he didn't care in the slightest. The older boy seemed to be considering it for a moment, before he spoke again.

“Well, I never wanted to, so I guess it's interesting! But I don't _need_ to know.” A hand rose to his cheek, Gon's thumb brushing across it before he leaned in to press a wet kiss against Killua's temple. He only laughed at Killua's sudden scowl. “Killua, are you embarrassed?”

“Of course I am! You're embarrassing.” Killua tilted his head to let their noses brush together, his brow furrowed. Gon only smiled at him before kissing the tip of his nose, and that made him flush harder. “You're the worst, you know that? You always embarrass the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” Gon said, clearly not sorry at all. His hand found Killua's chest, playing with the cloth of his shirt in an absent-minded kind of way. “I'm not uncomfortable talking about it, you know? I just don't like it – actually _doing_ stuff like that. It feels bad and stuffy and slimy. Maybe it would be different if I was more... like you down there. But I don't think it would. I never had anything like... feelings that made me want to do things like that. Touching myself, I mean. Or touching other people, or having other people touch me. I tried, a few times, just to see what it was like. And I didn't like it. It's not _scary_ , just...”

“Not good.” He didn't understand it, but that didn't matter. Gon nodded, his expression still thoughtful. Killua let his eyes drift closed, just listening to the sound of Gon's breathing. It was good that they'd talked about it, so that he knew his boundaries. That was more important than any arousal he experienced. “I don't care. It's pretty fucking simple, you know? You don't like it, so I won't do it. It's not like it's a life or death thing, shit.”

“Yeah! Plus, even if I wanted to, Mito-san told me not to do naughty things with you.” That made Killua's eyes shoot open again, and he half-sat before he'd even known he was moving. Gon's hand slid down his shirt, snagging at the fabric around his stomach. The other boy let out an almost irritated noise at being jostled. “Killua, what!”

“ _Your mom knows we're dating?_ ”

“Eh? Well... yeah.” Gon's expression was almost incredulous, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Killua brought both of his hands to press against his eyes, and Gon's arms curled around his waist. His face pressed against Killua's side.

“You're killing me, you know?”

“Ehhh? I couldn't keep it a secret, Killua!” Against him, Killua could feel Gon's cheeks puff out in a pout. “Besides! Um... I think... she might have already known. I don't think we were very subtle, maybe...”

Killua considered that for a moment, before running a hand through Gon's hair. The other boy's eyes closed at the touch, and he grinned. Sighing, he slid back down to the mattress. It was Mito, so he wasn't sure he cared. If it had been someone else, it would certainly have been a different matter. Illumi, or Hisoka, or his own mother... More than any of them, Mito always tried to understand. “... maybe you're right.”

“Does it matter?”

“I don't think so.”

“Good.” Without another word Gon was kissing him again, and Killua didn't think that anyone else mattered much at all.

 


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The piece mentioned in this chapter is a Real Thing in the Real World! Here it is: [_Symphonia Domestica_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zvymcR85HPY)

 Quiet music filled the empty halls, and Kurapika sighed a little at the sound as he closed the door behind him. He'd fallen asleep at his desk, and now it was long past the time where most investigators had gone home. Almost one in the morning, he noted, the light from his phone making him squint as he checked the time. If not for his full bladder, perhaps he wouldn't have awakened at all.

As he made his way down the hall, Kurapika considered the music. Obviously, someone was still in the office, though he wasn't sure who. It could wait until he had relieved himself, and even then, he wasn't sure if he cared enough to pry. Most of the lights in the building were off already, and he wondered as he looked at the door to the restrooms if it had been locked.

Luckily, it hadn't.

The matter of the other inhabitant of the building nagged him as he washed his hands. The more he strained to listen, the more Kurapika could pick out of the soft sound. Clarinets, he thought, or oboes. He wasn't confident that he could tell the difference. The distant sound of brass and the high flutter of a flute mixed together as he walked, his footsteps light. Classical music, a jaunty piece that seemed to wake him up a little.

The closer he got to the source, the more confident he was of who was playing the music. It made him smile a little, but at the same time a sort of anxiety shifted in his stomach. Kurapika knocked, gently, on the door frame, and the way Senritsu's shoulders jerked up made the uneasy feeling deepen.

“Oh! I didn't,” she started, before realizing who was standing in the doorway. Then her surprised expression seemed to compress into worry. Senritsu looked at him in such a familiar way sometimes that it hurt his heart, made him ache inside. “Kurapika, why are you still here?”

She reminded him of Pairo when she made that face, so much that he wanted to cry.

“I could ask you the same thing, really,” he replied, pressing a knuckle against his lips. It made Senritsu smile in embarrassment, like she'd realized the hypocrisy of the statement the moment it had left her mouth. She had to half-turn again to reach the computer, leaning to turn the speakers off. Kurapika shook his head. “No, by all means. May I ask what you're listening to?”

“You may, but I don't know if the answer will mean anything to you. Most people don't have a taste for classical compositions.” Her smile was a little softer now, and the knot in his stomach loosened every so slightly.

Kurapika considered the words for a moment, before nodding. “I suppose you have a point. I'm sure I won't recognize the piece even if you tell me the name, and maybe even the composer.”

“Well, there's no harm in answering anyway. The piece is Strauss' _Symphonia Domestica_ – ah, Richard Strauss, not Johann.” For a moment, Senritsu looked flustered, her cheeks flushing ever-so-slightly. She folded her fingers together, looking down at them.

“It seems rather bombastic for a domestic symphony,” Kurapika said after a pause. As they'd both expected, he didn't recognize any of it. Cymbals clashed in the movement, and it was somehow a surprise. “I do know... _of_ Johann Strauss, but I have to admit that I've never even heard of a Richard Strauss.”

“It's not one of his better known pieces,” Senritsu murmured, still looking only at her hands. “That would certainly be _Also sprach Zarathustra_. Ah... I'm sorry, that's not very interesting at all, is it? It's not a common interest, really...”

“I don't know much about it, of course,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest slightly. He'd never had an ear for classical pieces, and even now it wasn't very significant to him. But it gave him an insight to Senritsu that he hadn't expected to be pleased by. “But I don't think something being common is a sign of how interesting it is.”

“Maybe.” Senritsu's reply was almost meek, and Kurapika wondered if this was the first time someone had treated it with respect to her. The name _Also sprach Zarathustra_ seemed vaguely familiar to him, but he wasn't sure why. It would probably bother him until he looked it up, but that could wait. For now, he thought, it would be nice to have a conversation with Senritsu.

Suddenly, it occurred to him again that she had to have a reason to be in the office in the late hours of the night. Was he keeping her from her work? The sick feeling in his stomach was back. “I suppose I didn't answer your question as to why I'm still here,” Kurapika started, before licking his lips. “To be honest, I fell asleep at my desk.”

Senritsu pressed her hands to her mouth, and he knew she was doing her best to stifle a surprised laugh. She was smiling when she lowered them again, although it was slightly apologetic. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh. I just didn't expect that to be the reason. As for me, I prefer to write field reports as soon as possible, while everything is fresh in my mind.”

“So I _am_ keeping you from work. My apologies, I'm sorry to bother you.”

“No, no! It's no problem, I...” Her cheeks flushed again, and Kurapika felt his lips turn up in a slight smile. “Quite enjoy talking with you. And, I was just finishing up anyway.”

Neither of them spoke for a moment, and the only sound was the music. It was nice in a way, Kurapika thought. It occurred to him that he'd never paid music much attention. It was always just background noise to him. He hadn't expected to enjoy it.

The sound of violins was surprisingly sweet. _Symphonia Domestica._ Now, the name seemed much more fitting, the cymbals and percussion from earlier in the piece melting away to strings and fluttering flute, oboes and clarinet.

“You can sit down if you'd like,” Senritsu said finally. There were plenty of chairs, Kurapika realized, which made perfect sense considering it was a conference room. He only nodded to hide the fact that it had taken him so long to notice, pulling a chair aside and sitting.

“Do you play at all? Music, I mean.” He leaned forward to rest his forearm against the table, propping his chin up on one hand. The piece had become lively again, a surprisingly smooth transition. Senritsu seemed suited to music, the more he thought about it. Her gentle voice was melodic in a way. “Although, I suppose it would be difficult for one person to play a piece like this.”

“Well, yes. An orchestral piece, that would be quite a challenge.” It made her laugh a little, and she nodded. “I do play, in fact. Since I was a little girl, I played flute and piccolo. I much prefer the flute, though. It's easier on the fingers, for myself at least.”

“Is that so? Although, it certainly makes sense. Piccolos are quite small, so I suppose they're a better fit for small hands.” He hoped he wasn't making a fool of himself. Piccolos were like small flutes, weren't they? Was he thinking of something else? Kurapika stared at the computer's keyboard for a moment, wracking his brain for the answer. Senritsu didn't seem to notice his mild panic. “I think it suits you, really.”

“Do you?” It seemed like it made her happy. Senritsu's fingers tapped against the table as the song came to an end, and another began.

This one, Kurapika thought, he recognized. Maybe he would recognize more in the future. He thought Senritsu might enjoy that.


	44. Chapter 44

“My loss,” the king said, his eyes raking across the board. That day's count was seven games so far, and he had yet to beat the girl once in the two and a half weeks since they had obtained her.

It was a shock, in a way. Despite loss after loss, he wasn't angry at all. The annoyance he'd felt was gone, replaced only by a strange excitement. She wasn't a particularly bright girl, nor was she physically remarkable. In fact, everything about her was frail. A weak girl.

“Shall we play again, sir?”

Her eyes, unseeing, were nonetheless somehow focused. There was a determination there. She was an idiot, truly. But here, her fingers hovering over the shogi board above her winning move, she seemed to shine. For a human, she was quite astounding.

“... yes,” he said, and she nodded as she began to clear and reset the board. Another game, and, perhaps, another loss. But perhaps, it would finally be his win. Truly, this Komugi was a worthy opponent. It would make defeating her that much more worthwhile.

“Pawn to 2f,” she said, before sniffing hard. Unsightly. That was what she was. The girl kneeling before him was a complete mess of a human – more so than was typical for a human, at that. Behind him, his kagune lashed and twisted. She couldn't see it, of course. He wondered, not for the first time, if the girl even realized he wasn't human.

He wondered, as well, if knowing that would scare her.

Perhaps it was better to keep her ignorant. No, certainly it was for the best. He wasn't sure at all how the girl would react, and he was loathe to find out. If she responded negatively, that would be an... inconvenience.

“Pawn to 8d.”

“Pawn to 2e.”

A pause, before his fingers lifted another piece from the board. “Pawn to 8e.”

“Pawn to 7e.”

“Gold general, to 3b.” For a while, the only sound in the room was the click of pieces, the announcement of moves, and Komugi's insufferable sniffing. Somehow, it was peaceful and nerve-wracking at the same time.

“Silver general to 2b. Komugi. Tell me something.”

From the doorway, he heard the faintest sound – Shaiapouf, shifting in his seat, his mouth opening as if he would speak. Annoyed, the king leveled a glare at him. It served its purpose. Komugi seemed not to notice, though she surely had heard the ghoul's motion.

“Gold general to 7h. Yes, sir?”

“Your hair is white. Why is that?” He hadn't made a move, he realized. “... Silver general to 3c.”

“Ah! Um. Silver general to 3h.” Komugi sniffed again, and it made an utterly disgusting noise. He held a hand up to her, before recalling that she couldn't see him. “A-and...”

“Wait. Pouf.”

The other ghoul brightened, sitting up straighter in his seat. “My lord?”

“Go fetch Komugi a tissue.”

“... yes, my lord.”

Shaiapouf's distaste for Komugi was coming to irritate him, the king realized. It would be easy to silence him, he knew. Fanatical loyalty had that benefit – Neferpitou and Menthuthuyoupi were much the same, but their devotion was much less bothersome. He had his uses, of course, but lately it seemed less and less like he was worth the aggravation.

“Komugi.”

“Yes! Um, that's to say... I'm albino, sir.”

For a moment, the king was silent. “... and that is why your hair is white.”

“... yes, sir?”

He couldn't admit that he had no idea what the word meant. It was a strange feeling, the heat in his cheeks. When was the last time he'd been flustered? He wasn't sure if he had ever felt as embarrassed as he did in this moment.

Abruptly, he recalled that the girl was blind, and he was even more glad that she couldn't see his face reddening. Had it been insulting, to ask a blind girl about the color of her hair? She didn't seem affected by it at all. Perhaps it was a question she'd been asked before.

It was best, he decided, to not ask such questions until he understood her answer. The last thing he wanted to do was reveal his ignorance.

“I see,” the king said, picking up another piece. “We'll continue. Silver general to 6b.”

“Yes!”

 

“Ah,” Pitou said, pressing one thumb against their lips. A failure, it seemed. They would have to inform Pouf that the test subject hadn't reacted as they had hoped. But, then, it was only the first try. There were certainly more chances, as long as they could continue to obtain more subjects.

Looking down at the swollen, misshapen flesh that only barely resembled a human, Neferpitou clicked their tongue. It was probably better to euthanize it and get rid of it, so that the king wouldn't be disgusted by the sight of it. Yes, that was best – even if it seemed unlikely that he would leave the room in which he played with the human girl. And Shaiapouf was attending the king, so it was inconvenient to call him away for consultation. Either way, Pouf wasn't the one spearheading the experiment, so his opinion, while worthwhile, wasn't vital.

It was a shame, though certainly it had been an enlightening failure. “Peggy,” they called, crooking a beckoning finger. The man looked at them with some unease, but came as summoned. His worrying fingers had twisted his beard up, and he combed it out again as he crossed the room. The other ghoul was wary, Pitou noted. It was good, actually, to be wary of the thing encased in twisted RC cells, faintly groaning in pain.

“Yes,” Peggy said hesitantly, looking down at the charts he held. Many of the group, Pitou knew, were unsettled by the experimentation. It didn't matter; grunts had no say. All they needed to do was follow orders. “Has there been a change in the subject?”

“No. We're labeling the experiment a failure. See if there's anything you can salvage from the kakuhou. Work on extraction. Where is Hina?” Resources could be recycled. That was the beauty of working with RC cells – they multiplied, lived on even when the body that had produced them began to die. The first subject they'd experimented on had been a more lucrative endeavor than this. Perhaps it was best to prey upon investigators after all - they were strong, much stronger than an ordinary human.

That made Peggy even more wary, they noted. That was even better, given the circumstances. Fear sharpened the mind. “Still recovering, Pitou-sama. By our estimates, her kakuhou will be prepared for another extraction within the next week.”

“I see.” Pitou tapped a finger against their cheek, smiling. There were plenty more donors to be had, of course, and that was what Peggy was afraid of. But he was too useful to be used; the extraction process was tricky, they had learned, and based on Hina's recovery time it would take weeks for Peggy to be helpful again. Besides, it was most lucrative to harvest rinkaku kakuhou. “In that case, prep Flutter. And... call for Rammot.”

“... yes, Pitou-sama.”

It was time to find a new test subject.

 


	45. Chapter 45

“Oh, my. Are you still irritated with me?” Illumi's expression didn't change, though his eyes slid over to Hisoka. Sighing, Hisoka rested his chin in one hand. The other man was no fun lately. He really was angry, he thought. “That's a shame. It's certainly not my fault that you lost track of Killua-kun.”

“We both know that's not true.” Illumi leaned back, crossing his legs at the knee. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Hisoka let his kagune stroke gently down the bulbous nose of the fat, shivering man in front of them. Perhaps it would be better to put him out of his misery, but that risked upsetting Illumi even more. It wouldn't be long before the human died either way; the past three hours had been a cycle of unconsciousness and fearful wakefulness for him. Illumi was taking his frustrations out, bleeding him as slowly as his impatience would allow.

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because you distracted me on purpose.” Another sharp, thin length of Illumi's kagune stabbed into the helpless creature. Hisoka frowned at the muffled cry it elicited. There was certainly an art to it, a finesse and beauty. But there was nothing exciting about it, restraining and torturing such a weak opponent. “Are you planning something again?”

“Me? Planning something? I'm only looking for a bit of fun.” Illumi would be fun, he knew, but only if he could get the other ghoul truly angry. Black eyes met his again, and Hisoka held a hand up as if offended. It wasn't time to harvest Illumi yet. That in itself was a thrilling thought; as powerful as the Zoldyck was, he could become more appetizing yet. There were so many treats waiting for him, as long as he was patient. Illumi and his flighty younger brother. The lovely young dove who was full of rage, who would certainly ignite the spark necessary to draw the spider's head from hiding. And then...

Gon Freecss was certainly a fascinating enigma.

“Ah. So you won't tell me, then. That's fine, as long as you don't interfere again.” Illumi's long fingers reached out to him, not quite a threat. The fluid movement of his body as he flicked his hand towards the wreck of a human was a wonderful sight. Blood splattered against the wall in a wide arc as sharpened RC cells sliced through throat and jugular both. Apparently the other ghoul had gotten all he could out of torturing his prey.

“Would you be cross with me? It's very tempting.” Something glinted in Illumi's gaze and Hisoka laughed, waving a hand at him reassuringly. He wondered if Illumi thought it was genuine, not for the first time. What Illumi thought about their interactions was always a mystery, partially because he suspected Illumi himself wasn't sure what to think. It was funny, in a way. “Come now. Things are much more interesting when we work together, not against one another. Don't you agree?”

“No.” Illumi never minced words with him. He wondered if it was the same with Killua, what kind of expressions Illumi made then. Tilting his head with one finger pressed to his chin, Hisoka considered the other man. Something had gone wrong in the Zoldyck family, certainly.

“I'm hurt, truly. But...” His expression hardened, and Illumi's eyes narrowed. For a moment they only looked at each other, a rare instant of seriousness. “I won't be happy if you get between me and _my_ prey.”

“You could just tell me where Killu is. It would make things much easier.”

“Oh, this again. No, I think not. A boy must be able to keep some secrets from his family, yes? A private place, a private person... I won't tell you.” It was why he was being cautious about dropping in on the boy again. Since the disastrous last meeting they'd had, Illumi was even more keen on finding Killua. If the other ghoul managed to follow him, it would interrupt his plans. Especially if Illumi were to succeed in bringing Killua back to the rest of the family. 

It would be interesting to see how Gon would react to that, of course. Bringing a teenage boy to a state of uncontrollable emotion was fairly easy when it came to removing a lover. That was certainly something he couldn't allow Illumi to know about, though. The last thing he needed was for an overprotective brother to take the boy out before he was ready.

“I see.” Despite his expression, Hisoka could tell the other man was annoyed. Still, the fact remained that Illumi was confident that he could find Killua on his own. Whether it was a delusion or not was the question. It was almost disturbing how twisted Illumi's logic was when it came to his younger brother.

“Really, don't you think you're too controlling? It will only make him resent you.” Despite the words, Hisoka was sure it was too late for that. Killua's dislike of his brother bordered on fearful hatred. It made him wonder how Illumi's fixation had prompted him to act in the past. “A growing boy needs his space, don't you know?”

“No. He's hopeless without guidance. I'll have to find him soon, really.” Illumi was completely ignoring his kill, Hisoka noted dully. It was wasteful, of course. Whether or not Illumi would abandon the corpse was a mystery. He certainly wouldn't bring it to a kitchen. “I'm only looking out for his well-being.”

“Really.” Hisoka wondered if Illumi knew that it wasn't the truth. He probably believed it was, and he wasn't sure if that was funny or pathetically delusional. Sometimes he thought Illumi was a mess of a ghoul – but at the same time, he was so lovely and dangerous.

“Yes. It's very important that Killu grows up properly.” They'd had this conversation before, of course – not exactly, but enough that he could predict where it would go. “After all, he's-”

“The heir, yes, yes.” With such a restrictive life planned out for him, it was no wonder Killua acted the way he did. Inherit the company, marry a high-class ghoul woman, sire another heir. Start the cycle anew, without living for himself.

“What a boring life,” Hisoka said under his breath. 

“Hm?”

“Nothing, nothing. Say, what would happen if Killua-kun _didn't_ grow up properly? What would you do then?”

“Oh. That's simple.” The blank expression on Illumi's face when he spoke was unnerving enough to give him chills. It was a wonderful feeling. “I'd have to break him, and put him back together right.”

A shiver ran up his spine, and Hisoka bit his lower lip. That was what he loved about Illumi – his ruthlessness, how warped he was. 

It made him excited.

 


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas to those who celebrate!

“Ah, fuck.” Shalnark's fingers tightened on the controller, and he frowned at the screen. Below him, Uvogin made a low, annoyed noise that tickled at his skin. The other man's fingers dug into his thighs, and Shalnark kicked at his back with his heels in response. “Don't be a pain in the ass, Uvo.”

“Unbelievable,” Uvogin grunted, and then his lips were back where they were supposed to be and Shalnark was grinning in satisfaction. He tapped his thumbs against the buttons casually, watching his character dash across the screen. By now, he'd gotten good at multitasking, and Uvogin's head between his legs had little-to-no impact on his gaming.

“Mm, you're so much easier to deal with when your mouth is busy.” He liked when Uvogin was on his knees, really. The other man was so much bigger than him that looking down on him was a delight. Not responding to him, Uvogin only slid his tongue inside him and sucked hard. “Going right to business, huh. Does it taste good? Eating me out.”

The irritated noise he got made him smile wider, and Shalnark laughed a little when Uvogin's hands on his thighs pushed his legs apart further. He'd been wet from the start, so the fingers that pushed into him slipped in easily. He wasn't sure if he'd give the ghoul the satisfaction of fucking him, at least not yet. Uvogin was careful with him, at hilarious odds with the way he was about everything else. It was subjective, of course – the purple bruises blooming on his thighs were a testament to that. Elsewhere, the yellow remainders of their last tryst marked Shalnark's skin.

On the screen, he was thrilled to see, there was a low-level player. If he struck fast, they might not even realize they were under attack from another player. It wasn't like Greed Island – that was too risky to play with Uvogin fucking him, given the amount of time he'd invested in his account. If he died, he'd lose all the progress he'd made. That part of Greed Island was frustratingly realistic, but the increased stakes was something exciting at the same time.

Licking his lips, Shalnark twitched the left stick forward. A paralysis spell would eliminate all risk, as well as frustrating the player. He weighed the options for a moment – using the spell was almost unsatisfying in how easy it was, but utterly dominating his unwitting opponent was fun as well. “Uvo,” he said, shifting his hips upward a little to ease the strain on his waist, “Did you talk to the danchou yet?”

Uvogin hummed a little, and he felt it more than he heard it over the sudden clash from the television as he struck. He loosened his grip on the controller, snorting as the other player exploded into light. It hadn't been worth it to use the spell, he decided, but it was too late for that. It wasn't as if the recharge time was too unreasonable, but the attack hadn't been as much fun as Shalnark had hoped.

“Your part has to wait a little bit, though. I'm already in the system, and I can access it remotely whenever I want,” Shalnark continued, biting at his lip when one of Uvogin's fingers curled inside him to press against the front of his abdomen. “I have to check in every few hours to make sure they haven't blocked me out, but they're, mm. They're so stupid, it was so easy to get in.”

It wasn't as simple as he made it out to be, but Shalnark was used to dumbing things down for the rest of the Troupe. Most of them were embarrassingly ignorant, unable to understand what he was talking about unless he broke it down to the most basic terms.

“You talk too much,” Uvogin grumbled, before running his tongue against his wet slit. Shalnark snaked a hand between his legs to pinch at the other man's nose. The unspoken reprimand was obvious, and Uvogin let out an annoyed 'tsk'. Despite that, he brought his lips back to lick and suck again, making Shalnark sigh in contentment. Uvogin's fingers felt good inside him – the man's whole body was big, and his hands were no exception.

“Much better.” There was no point in talking about it to Uvogin, really, but the way he got frustrated when he didn't understand things was nice. It only underlined the fact that in his own way, he had a startling advantage over the other man. But then, he was in a position of power over Uvo all the time.

If he wanted to, Uvogin could have easily killed him. It came as naturally to the ghoul as breathing – he reveled in murder, in taking lives. Shalnark patted his head almost fondly. Like a vicious dog. That was what Uvogin reminded him of – a dog, though he more resembled a bear. And like a dog, he could be trained, at least in some ways.

“Oh, shit,” Shalnark said quietly, shuddering as Uvogin bit down gently on him. Sometimes he was eager for it, and it seemed like this was one of those times. He wondered how far he could go in teasing, if Uvogin would finally reach a breaking point in his patience. The fact that he was the other man's morality chain wasn't news. “Nah, Uvo – I'm gonna level up soon. You wanna put your cock in me, right? If you can make me come before I level up, ah, you can fuck me with that stupidly huge dick.”

“Yeah?” He could feel Uvogin grin against him, and it made him smile as well. The bait had been taken. “No problem.”

It wasn't long before his legs were twitching, but at the same time, Shalnark smirked. “Uvooo,” he drawled, rolling his hips forward to bump his groin against Uvogin's nose, “I'm _so_ close – to leveling up. You better hurry, or you won't be getting your cock wet.”

A muscle in his thigh jumped when teeth skimmed his clit again, and Shalnark hissed in pleasure. Curling his fingers in Uvogin's hair, he sucked in a sharp breath. It was getting hard to concentrate on the screen, but Shalnark wasn't sure he cared. Uvogin certainly didn't, based on the way his jaw moved. If he gave up and focused entirely on what was going on between his legs, of course, that would be no challenge at all.

Metal clashing and his rough breathing were the only sounds in the room as he wrapped his legs around Uvogin's neck, leaning forward. It was a race now, to find out if he could hold off on that feeling of shuddering satisfaction long enough to spite Uvo. The tips of his ears felt hot – he was close enough that it was dangerous to stop paying attention for even a second. It didn't matter, though – the challenge was coming to an end.

“Ah, Uvo, you're – ah, haha!” Shalnark grinned wide, baring his teeth as he laughed, and hit X. On the screen, his character exploded into golden light. “Too laaate, ah, there, mm!”

Even as his thumb pressed against the start button, he was tossing the controller to the side and tangling both hands in Uvogin's hair. He bucked his hips as he came, delighting in the frustrated noise that slipped out of the other man in response.

For a moment Shalnark said nothing, content to catch his breath as Uvogin sucked on his thighs. The ghoul was annoyed at his loss, he knew, and he took a deep, sighing breath as he considered what to do about it. “You lose, Uvo-chan. Better luck next time?”

“Shut up.”

“Mm...” Chuckling lightly, he brushed a thumb over Uvogin's cheek. The only response he got was a frown that was almost a pout. Shalnark rolled his eyes. “You're a big baby, you know that?”

Uvogin, he knew, wouldn't have a reply to that. If it were someone else, maybe the other man would have pushed the issue – but Shalnark was another matter entirely. Though he grumbled and protested, Uvogin always listened. If he said no, that was all there was to it. It wasn't so much that Uvogin respected him and his position in the Troupe. That wouldn't have been enough to get him to go down on his knees without any real complaint. Not his Uvo. No, it wasn't respect, though there was some there, and it wasn't entirely fear either.

The real answer was almost hilarious. Uvogin cared about him, a genuine devotion that he had never expected from the brute of a man. Shalnark knew it hadn't been there at first – but now, he was an obedient little puppy. There was no doubt in his mind that he could do whatever he wanted to the ghoul, and never be in the slightest bit of danger. Absence only made Uvogin hungrier, more desperate, and because of that, more cautious. Holding back, though it drove him insane. It was an amazing rush, knowing that he was the one holding that monster's leash.

It was useful, the fact that Uvogin was in love with him. He couldn't say whether he reciprocated the feeling, but it was undoubtedly useful. No matter what he did and how annoyed Uvogin got, Shalnark always came out on top. And it felt nice, that affection. Being loved felt nice.

Love. That was what the Troupe gave him that no one else had. Loving others - maybe not in the same way that they loved him, but still just as strong and important - felt nice.

Uvogin bit his thigh, and Shalnark laughed before shoving him down and planting a foot on his chest.

“Uvo-chan, don't misbehave.” Casually, Shalnark retrieved the controller and wound the cord tightly around Uvo's neck. He tugged on it twice, to make sure it was snug in place. The point had been made – he was in charge, no matter how much Uvogin bitched about it.

Shalnark turned back to his game, smiling.

 


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slacker here reporting in: sorry I have no proper work ethic. I'll be participating in the HxH Big Bang that's going on right now (you can find it at hxhbb.tumblr.com), so I've been focusing on what to write for that! I hope to finish that fic up soon so I can try and get back into the swing of this one. Sorry for the wait!

“Oh,” Gon said, and it was very quiet in the room. The fingers of his left hand curled around the strap of his bag. Biscuit frowned at him, but she said nothing as the boy studied the security feeds. He'd been wide-eyed and attentive the entire tour of Cochlea, brightly asking strangely pertinent questions, but now he was quiet. He peered at the camera feeds, squinting down at the ghouls on the bottom floor. Two, now – the woman who had been the Chimera Ant queen was dead. She hadn't survived kakuhou extraction. Biscuit looked at Gon's back. He wasn't facing her anymore, lost in the video feed.

“What do you think?” she asked, putting one hand on her hip. He was concentrating hard, she noted. Gon put a hand on the counter below the displays, leaning forward as he looked. His forehead creased a little. “Gon.”

“What?” He hadn't been listening to her, she realized, as his face turned back to her. “Sorry, I wasn't listening.”

“What did you notice?” It had been weeks since she'd last spent any significant time with him, really. Gon's tour of Cochlea had been postponed long enough, though, and Kite had reluctantly handed the boy over to her. Biscuit didn't want to think too much into that; Kite was taking things very seriously indeed with Ging Freecss' son, and the reasons could be numerous and uncomfortable. There was baggage there that she had no right to dig through.

“I was trying to figure out what the drawing was,” Gon admitted, looking at the screen again. Biscuit let her own gaze drift to the little ghoul in the cell. They both stared for a moment. It was hard to make out what was drawn on the walls in marker, just because of the angle the camera was at. “They seem too old to be acting like a little kid, you know? But...”

Biscuit looked down again, at the ghoul child in the cell. Clad all in white, formless linen shifts at all times. A little ghoul who acted much, much smaller. “A lot of ghouls are immature in many ways,” she said. It was the truth – ghouls had no solid societal structure, which meant no school, which meant much lower education levels. Lower education levels didn't automatically mean immaturity; street smarts were something anyone could learn at any age, and necessity made them learn.

But the ghoul in the cell on the camera feed acted like a child no older than ten. They sat on their bed, swinging their legs and humming. On the wall behind them, there was a scribble of something that was probably a family. Biscuit looked at it again – the ghoul's family, she thought. They cleaned the walls every few days, making a fresh canvas. The child in the cell never complained or made a fuss about the destruction of their drawings. A new one would always be in its place in hours.

Gon traced a finger down the camera screen. “Can we zoom in?”

“Only a little bit,” Biscuit informed him, though she put her hand over the computer mouse and scrolled in. The sound of the camera adjusting caught the ghoul's attention, and for a moment wide eyes looked at them.

There was a little startled inhalation, and Biscuit stared at the ghoul for a moment before realizing it had come from Gon. The ghoul looked away, almost pouting, and Gon frowned. A child, Biscuit thought, on both sides of the camera.

“They have pretty eyes,” Gon said by way of distracted explanation. Then he seemed to clear his head a little.

“It's a family portrait, isn't it? I used to draw stuff like that when I was little. Me and Mito-san. They're all ghouls, so it must be a family.” Gon was quiet for a moment, and then he reached out to touch the screen again. “This one, that's the one in the cell. Or maybe it's this one. The eyes on that one are the wrong color, but the hair is right. Girls. And then...” He chewed on his lower lip, counting the scribbled figures. “Parents, probably these two here... then, that's a big brother, and some other siblings. And the mom is holding a baby, I think? And maybe, an uncle, or a much older brother. Maybe it's more than one family, or an extended one...”

“We don't know,” Biscuit said. “The ghoul won't talk to us at all.”

“You talk to them, then. Her.” Gon looked at the panels, running his eyes over the keyboards and switches. “From here? Or do you go down to her floor?”

“It depends. There's a microphone embedded in the control panel, of course, but if we want a two-way conversation it has to be face to face.”

“Oh.” Gon looked as if he was going to say something else, but then he paused. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled his phone out and opened it. He looked at the screen for a moment, and sighed. “I'll text him back later.”

“Your friend?”

“Mm... Hey, Bisky? Why is she here?”

“I don't know.” It was best to tell the truth to Gon. There was nothing to be gained from lying.

Gon looked at her for a moment, his finger still resting against one of the figures on the screen. One of the suggested siblings, the only one besides the picture's artist and double who was smiling. They were holding hands with the ghoul in the cell, and the other one that resembled them. Twins, maybe, or siblings close in age. Biscuit couldn't ever tell. The child certainly never gave an understandable answer. “I don't get it.”

“That ghoul hasn't committed any crimes that I know of, other than the consumption of human flesh. Chairman Netero believes that keeping them contained is the best course of action. I can't say what his reasons are.” She thought, maybe, that there was something more to it. But there was no use in feeding her suspicions to Gon.

“... so, then... she's not really deserving of being on this floor at all? It's just something you did because the old man told you to do it?” Gon's right hand curled into a fist, finally moving away from the screen. He turned to look at Biscuit, leaning against the counter. Something in his expression worried her. Angry, of course, but there was something else underneath that. “Hey, Bisky. My... friend, hates things like this, you know? I mean...”

He shifted his weight a little. Biscuit narrowed her eyes at him – she could ask, but it would probably be better to let him continue on his own.

“You know, he has this thing in his past that really upsets him. He doesn't like to talk about it, and I don't like to ask about it. I never really have, actually... if you pay attention to people you love, sometimes you learn things without them ever saying a word. So... a long time ago, before he met me, he had a little sister. And he loved her so much, more than anything in the world. He would have done anything to protect her. The ghoul in the cell is just a little kid who didn't do anything wrong, just like his little sister. If...” Gon stopped, and he looked at his feet. “If ghouls didn't exist, he said, he would still be able to see her. To play with her, and hold her, and tell her he loves her. And I think, if ghouls didn't exist, the one in that little room would be able to be a normal kid, one with a big brother who loves her. That's what she drew, right? Holding hands with a big brother.”

“Oh, Gon.”

“He thinks about her every day,” Gon continued, lifting his head again to meet her eyes. Biscuit had been afraid that the boy would start crying, but he only looked calm and sorrowful. Now that she thought of it, she had never seen Gon so subdued. “I know he does. He thinks about her every single day, about how much he misses her and how much he loves her. He thinks about how much he wants to see her. It makes him so sad that he can't do that. But I know if he could, the first thing he would do is tell her he loves her, that he loves her so much. Because he does. He still does, and he always will. Even if he never gets the chance to say it to her ever again, he'll never stop loving her. For that girl in the cell, I think, it's the same. I'm sure that big brother is out there somewhere, and he's very sad that they're apart.”

For a moment he looked like he would continue, but instead he just pulled his phone out again. The screen lit up when he hit a button, no doubt looking at the text he'd received again.

“Gon, is this why you wanted to become an investigator?”

“I never planned on this, you know? A while ago, if you'd said I would be here one day I would have been really upset. I... don't think ghouls are bad people. They're just people. They don't ask for what they ended up with. Even though Ging is an investigator, I never thought it was something I would ever want to do. I still don't, probably. When I think about the things I want to do, being an investigator isn't what it is.”

Biscuit watched him for a moment. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a bit of movement in the cell – the ghoul getting up and picking up a marker. “Gon... what _do_ you want to do?”

“I don't know. There's a lot of things I want to do, things I'm not sure I can do. I want to understand the things I don't, and I want... If I could, I would want to be able to deliver that message for Killua. I would want his little sister to hear it. I think... it would probably make her very happy. Knowing that her big brother is still thinking about her, and that he's never, ever going to forget how much he loves her. That Killua would do anything to see her again, if he knew how. And I think... no, I'm sure that it's the same for that ghoul's brother.”

Later, when Kite had come to collect his young charge once more, Biscuit looked at the ghoul in the cell again. Small, young, petite. Undeniably a child.

The drawing on the wall had something new on it now.

When she glanced at the controls to zoom in, trying to read the words written in a messy, childish scrawl, she realized the microphone on the counter had been turned on. One of them had bumped it at some point; she didn't know how long it had been on. Gon had probably hit it accidentally, Biscuit thought. Or maybe he had done it on purpose, out of sympathy. The more she thought about it, the more she thought it was the latter.

Based on the picture on the wall, the ghoul in the cell had clearly heard their conversation.

Ghouls were people to Gon, after all. Of course he would want to reassure a lonely child. If more people looked at things the way Gon did, Biscuit thought, a lot more people would be happy.

Above the figures were the words “I love onii-chan.”

She was glad Gon had turned the speaker on.

 


	48. Chapter 48

Kite looked at the message for a long time. It was a single, run-on sentence full of misspelled words, a testament to how rushed the sender had been in typing it. He'd read it several times since it had lit up his phone, even weeks later. At the time, he had been too far away to do anything.

Several other investigators had received it. They'd been able to trace the phone, at least, but that had been it. No bodies to bury. An abandoned cell phone, scuffed from the pavement. All of the investigators that had been present in that part of the thirteenth ward to scope out the building had been declared MIA, though the odds were overwhelming that they were dead. It would be a few more days, maybe even a week, until their deaths were declared.

They would be declared, though. It didn't matter what anyone wanted; the team was dead, and that was all there was to it. Nothing about that could be changed.

Who had been on the team? Pokkle and Ponzu, he knew, and he thought perhaps Geretta and Bourbon. He wasn't familiar with them all, and there were so many investigators that it was impossible to keep track. Most of those investigators, Kite knew, had been recent graduates who had just been promoted into the ranks of active investigators. And now, most of them were dead.

Frowning, he pocketed his phone again. Morel's eyes followed him as he walked across the lobby of the thirteenth ward branch. Knov was murmuring something to him, but both men were watching him instead of each other.

It was to be expected; Kite was heading this operation now, and the respect they held for his judgment was now juxtaposed with their caution in regards to his determined tag-along.

Gon hadn't drawn blood yet, but it was only a matter of time before he had to kill. Everyone's concern was whether or not he'd be able to do so. After what had happened with Hanzo, it was hard to keep attention off Gon. The whispers were unavoidable, and yet they rolled off Gon's back like water. Instead, he steadfastly pursued the things he wanted, soaking up information like a particularly determined sponge. He was always observing. No matter the situation, he seemed to learn something from it. In a way, it was terrifying. Gon adapted. Gon tested the waters. If a punch didn't work, he'd try a kick. If a kick didn't work, he'd find a weapon. Gon didn't give up on things. He would hammer away at a problem until all that remained was dust.

Ging's son. What would he become?

Was Ging proud, or did he not care at all?

By the information desks, an older, somewhat dumpy looking woman was holding the shoulders of another woman, who stared hollowly ahead. They were giving a statement, perhaps, or reporting a missing person. There had been so many missing people to report as of late. One of the women began to cry. A lost loved one. No matter where he looked, there was a lost loved one.

Spinner was standing at another desk, wiping at her face with the inside of her wrist. It smeared some of her makeup across her cheek, a thick streak of black mascara. He looked away as Banana leaned forward with a tissue to clean her up. Even if they didn't know he was there, weren't paying a bit of attention to anything but each other, it felt like he was intruding on something private – a secret kind of grieving.

Kite knew that Spinner had been recording the known details of the incident.

He knew Ponzu had been her friend.

It only reminded him that they were young. Not nearly as young as Gon, though, who was sitting quietly in a booth on the other side of the lobby. He was texting – faster now that his cast was off and he had both hands to work with – the same person he was always texting, the same person he was always cheerfully talking about. The one from the hospital, who had glared at him in a mixture of anger and fear.

To him, that fear was completely understandable. “Killua hates it” was something he'd heard more than once from Gon. Kite knew it was true, but he wondered how much Gon understood it. Despite his words and seeming remorse, he never stopped doing the things he thought the other boy would be mad about.

If Killua had seen that side of Gon, the way Kite suspected he had, he had to know that Gon wouldn't ever stop.

It wasn't that Gon didn't take things seriously. He'd fight when confronted, and Kite had no doubts that he would kill to protect his own life, maybe even others' lives. But his priorities were so strange. Gon wasn't doing this for anyone but himself. He was an adrenaline junkie, Kite thought. Dangerous. Even so, Gon had things he wanted to live for. But that only made Kite think about what those things were.

He wasn't afraid Gon would throw his life away for a cheap thrill, at the very least.

He shouldn't have interrupted them, Kite knew. They'd both been irritated, enough that he'd felt a hint of bloodlust from that other boy. Killua. He should have turned around and walked away, really. He shouldn't have made a sound – it was certainly within his capabilities. He could have spoken to Gon later. There were so many other options he could have taken, and it wasn't as if Kite was new to thinking on the fly.

But everything in his head had vanished to leave him with unspeakable awkwardness the moment he saw Ging Freecss' son leaning in to kiss someone.

The realization had almost bowled him over.

There was no mistaking the action, either, though they'd both recovered with such speed that it seemed practiced. He wondered how many times Mito had almost caught them. Did she know? Did she care? He wondered so many things about Gon and Killua. He wondered if it was serious. Of course, it had to be. Gon didn't do anything halfheartedly; he already knew that. He wondered how long it had been going on. He wondered how reciprocated it was. That was something he couldn't say. He wondered how far it had gotten. That was something he didn't truly want to know.

At the very least, there were some things he wasn't worried about with that pair.

Gon smiled at his phone.

Teenagers.

Ging's son would be the death of him, he was sure.

The fact that he even cared was foolish. Kite knew it was _because_ Gon was Ging's son. It was lingering feelings, ones he had never been able to understand or accurately describe. Being drawn to Ging was an inevitability, and that magnetic attraction was something apparent in his son as well. There was something about the Freecss family, something that he was helpless but to admire, unable to escape from.

Gon's smile widened, his cheeks red. In that moment, he seemed so different from the boy who had wreaked havoc on a training room, destroying the most expensive equipment with the weapon at his back. It was truly unfair that Gon picked up on things so easily. Kite turned away, remembering the boy's words from earlier that day.

“ _Kite, I think, I'm really a selfish person. There are all these things I want, things I'm not sure if I'm deserving of, things I don't know if I have any right to have. But, I still want them! I want them so badly. I want to understand the things I don't understand. I want to be strong enough that I can learn everything, so that nothing and no one can hold me back.”_

“ _Kite, if you can't keep up, I'll leave you in the dust. You get that, right? I won't wait up. I have my life to live. I'm selfish, so I won't let anything hold me back from what I want. Especially not a rookie investigator. Learn from someone else. I'm no teacher.”_

Too much alike, Kite thought.

“Gon,” he said, and the boy looked up at him. There was no point in trying to keep Gon from doing the things he wanted to do. The kid would find another way, a worse way. A way where maybe, no one would be there to protect him from his inevitable mistakes. It wasn't as if he could become the boy's father, stepping into the place that Ging had left. Kite didn't want to do that, either. His job was to prepare Gon for the life of an investigator, as harsh as it was. He couldn't slow down for the boy, but he could keep Gon's head on his shoulders. That was the only thing he could guarantee, at least. What kind of disciple could even consider leaving his master's son to stumble around in the dark? Even if Ging had never wanted that role.

“Are we going?” Gon asked, snapping his phone shut. In the instant before it closed, Kite saw that his wallpaper was a new picture of Killua, asleep with his head pillowed on his arms.

He'd protect Gon from whatever he could. It was another matter entirely to protect him from himself.

 


	49. Chapter 49

“Hey, Leorio?” Gon twirled his fork in the pasta on his dish, his lips pursed tightly. Kurapika paused, glancing at Leorio as the other man set his glass down. Somehow they had both already learned something very important about Gon, and it was that an opening like that would surely be for an uncomfortable question. “Can I ask you something? I've been thinking about it for a long time, I figured Leorio would know.”

Leorio's eyes met his, and Kurapika shrugged his shoulders almost imperceptibly. It made him sigh, and he looked back to Gon instead. As loathe as he was to admit it, Kurapika thought he didn't understand either of them very well at all. At least Leorio was predictable. “Yeah, lay it on me kiddo.”

“Why don't we recycle our dead?” For a moment, neither man spoke. Leorio's mouth fell open, and Kurapika held a hand up to his own to make sure his lips weren't parted. Gon's fingers spun the fork again, and he tapped it against his plate. “You know what I mean, right? In just Japan, there must be so many people who die every day. And we just cremate the bodies, even though there's lots and lots of people who could benefit from them. Not just people who need organ donations, I mean.”

“You're asking why we don't offer our deceased to ghouls for consumption,” Kurapika said slowly, rubbing the knuckle of his pointer finger against his lips. It was a question that was astounding in its simplistic intelligence as well as its startling lack of morality. Of course humanity didn't butcher its dead in order to feed another species, it was barbaric.

But why was it barbaric? If he couldn't put it into words, Gon wouldn't understand.

“Yeah.”

“That's a hell of a question,” Leorio said finally, his voice hoarse. The words had clearly startled him, based on the troubled expression on his suddenly-pale face. Kurapika narrowed his eyes. Leorio would approach this from an emotional angle, he thought. For Gon, that was probably better. “We can't do that. It's disrespectful to the dead.”

“Even though they're not around to be respected? I know it's sad to lose someone, but once they're gone there's no one left in their body. So giving them up to ghouls seems smart to me! If we make those bodies available, it can help keep more people from having to die to feed ghouls.”

“That's all well and good to say, but that's not how people think about it. It's an insult to someone's memory, throwing them out to be eaten like they're just meat.” Leorio waved a hand as he spoke, as if it would help illustrate his point more. Gon took the words in without speaking, looking down at his plate as he considered them. Abruptly, Kurapika wondered if Gon could understand without an appeal to his own emotions. He wasn't sure if he wanted to voice the one that came to mind. “It's painful to the people left behind, too.”

“Oh.” He didn't seem to really get it, Kurapika knew. He frowned, running over words in his mind as Gon spoke again. Gon had lost a friend. Was it fair to use him as an example? Kurapika thought of dark brown eyes and a smiling face, and closed his mouth. “I mean... Even if you put aside most people and just look at people who have a donor card. What if they... Say, if I marked on a donor card that if I died, a hospital could take my heart and give it to someone else. But then when I _do_ die-”

“Don't talk like that,” Leorio said quickly, leaning forward to pat the boy's hand in a strange admonishment. Gon frowned, clearly displeased with the reaction. Feeling brushed off, maybe, or upset at being treated as a child. “That's not going to affect you. You're not even old enough to sign a donor card.”

“Leorio, you're missing his point,” Kurapika sighed, resting his chin in one hand. Gon's line of thought was actually very reasonable once emotional attachment and morality were ignored. But it was so unbelievably naïve. He couldn't put into words why the idea was impossible, unacceptable. “When you die, what if something is wrong with the organ? Is that what you were going to say?”

“Mhm.”

“Leorio, correct me if I'm wrong, but damaged or diseased organs are incinerated as medical waste by hospitals.”

“No, that's right. It depends from case to case, but if a body part is diseased it'll usually be sent to a specialized bio-hazard crematorium.” Leorio was taking that question seriously, at least. Gon's eyebrows furrowed, close enough together that they were almost a single line. The answer seemed to intrigue him. “Otherwise, usually any organs are cremated normally with the deceased unless there were other specifications. In a will, or something requested by the family.”

That, Gon didn't like. His puzzled expression turned a little more frustrated, and he chewed on his lower lip. “So... If it was damaged, or couldn't be preserved in time... If I already put in writing that I wanted it to be used to help someone else, why isn't it given to someone who can use it even if it's no good for transplanting?”

“Gon, most people don't want to help ghouls and wouldn't want their bodies to be used that way.”

“That's not fair! They-”

“Gon, do you think that we could just set up shop and hand out bodies to ghouls like a soup kitchen?” Kurapika tried to keep his voice as gentle as possible as he spoke. Gon's frown intensified as he thought about it, and before he could protest Kurapika continued. “Even if we were able to obtain permission from the deceased and their next of kin, do you think ghouls would believe us? I would think it was a trap if I were a ghoul. Not everyone is as trusting as you are.”

“... maybe.”

“It's all very well to say this, looking in on it from the outside. But Leorio is right. Most of us aren't interested in _helping_ ghouls – no, more than that, many people would be angry and scared at the mere thought of helping ghouls. Especially if it meant the sacrifice of themselves or a loved one.” Gon opened his mouth, and Kurapika held a hand up to silence him. Based on what he had said before, he was sure what the boy would say now. “Even if they're already dead, yes.”

“I get being sad, and missing someone,” Gon said, and his face was suddenly much more sorrowful. Leorio's eyes softened as he looked at him, and for a moment he looked more like an older brother than anything else. Something twisted in Kurapika's stomach, but Gon was already continuing. “But it's so selfish. It's not fair to try and hold on to something like that. They _have_ to let go. It would keep everyone safer. If, if there was another option, less people would have to die. Of _course_ ghouls kill humans! They don't have any other options!”

“And you believe _this_ – recycling human corpses – is an option that humanity would accept?”

“I...” Gon was genuinely hesitant now, and Kurapika wasn’t sure if he was glad or not that the boy was thinking it through. He wondered why Gon spent so much time on those kinds of thoughts. Ever since he’d visited Cochlea, Kurapika thought, Gon had been… odd. Odder than usual. What had he realized there? Something that he and Leorio had missed? Or something that only Gon could see? “I don’t know. I don’t get it at all! It’s a better way, I know it is! I just… can’t figure out how to explain it.”

“I understand your sentiment, Gon, but...” Kurapika sighed, running a hand through his hair. Gon stabbed at his pasta almost sullenly, clearly unsure as to how to continue his line of thought. He certainly didn’t seem to want to give up on it, at the very least. “It’s an interesting idea. It’s very pragmatic. But we aren’t...”

“If you’re going to talk to someone about it,” Leorio said, as if he understood what Kurapika was saying and knew how to take over, “It shouldn’t be us. Even if we agreed with you one-hundred percent, we couldn’t do a thing about it.”

“I guess.”

“Maybe,” Kurapika started, as gently as he could, “That could be something you discuss with your father.”

“Oh!” The words made Gon brighten, and suddenly he looked curious and astonished all at once. It seemed like the idea hadn’t even occurred to him. “Do you think Ging is someone who _could_ do something about that?”

“Well, I believe a Special Investigator has much more pull than someone like myself or Leorio.” Leorio shot him a side glance, one that was surprisingly tame. Apparently Leorio wasn’t upset at being reminded that he was a grunt in the organization, despite everything. He thought, not for the first time, that Leorio didn’t really want to be a part of the CCG at all.

That was foolish. He _knew_ Leorio didn’t want to be a part of the CCG. The job wasn’t glamorous, nor was it easy. The fact that he’d not taken a life yet – not been forced to take a life yet – was a blessing.

It only made Kurapika wonder.

“Well, I have to find him first,” Gon said slowly, rubbing his thumb across his knuckles. There was some reluctance in his voice, as if something was going unsaid. Kurapika wasn’t sure he wanted to pursue it. The topic had been uncomfortable enough already, and he was eager to get past it.

“Gon,” Leorio started, before clicking his tongue and leaning back in his seat. The expression on his face was distasteful, as if his own thoughts had been unpalatable. Leorio scratched the back of his head, before genuinely scowling. “What are you even doing here, Gon?”

There it was – the question they hadn’t gotten an answer to.

“Um?” Clearly, Gon wasn’t expecting it – or didn’t understand it. His eyebrows drew together again, and he chewed on his lower lip. Kurapika watched that for a moment, feeling himself frown. “Leorio invited me to lunch, so I...”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” Leorio shot back immediately, but then his expression softened immediately as if he’d realized how sharp his tone had been. “Shouldn’t you be spending your time having fun? You’re a kid, but it’s like you don’t have a damn clue that you are. You don’t have to live this kind of life yet. No, ever, but especially not now.”

“I… You’re asking why I joined the CCG?” For a moment, Gon looked as if he’d pull his knees up to his chest and hide behind them. More than ever, he looked his age. No one had wanted to confront it, Kurapika thought. The fact that Gon had undergone Quinx surgery, the fact that it meant he was being trained for combat – what that training had already entailed – and for what reason? “I thought I said already. I’m trying to catch up to Ging, and this is the fastest way!”

Somehow, Kurapika wasn’t sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be real with you guys - I'm burned out on this fic. I want to finish it, I've had an ending planned for months and months. I love this fic to death, honestly! I was so excited about it, and I can still grasp some of that excitement. But I feel like I'm throwing it out into the void - not just this, everything I write. No one comments on any of my work anymore and I don't know who's listening. I don't know how long it'll take me to finish this fic at this rate, because I don't even know if I have an audience. I don't know why I'm even saying this, since all it's going to do is result in guilt. But I'm a person, not a fanfiction machine, and I just... want to know it's worth it. I don't know. I'm just having a hard time.


	50. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I wanted to say thanks to everyone who's left me a comment on the fic. Life's been sort of... difficult, lately (death in the family), but I'm cranking away at this fic still. It seems like whenever I get back to it, something happens in my life to push me away from working on writing... Or maybe that's just an excuse? I don't know.
> 
> I'll keep you guys updated as to how it's going on tumblr (my url is olivemeister). I feel like if I'm more public with how work's going on the fic, maybe it'll keep me going better? Who knows. If you're curious as to what's going on with me, that's the best place to check I think!
> 
> Thanks for your continued support, everyone. I appreciate it a lot, maybe more than you guys realize! Anyway, here's a chapter.

Nothing added up, unless Gon’s motivations weren’t what he claimed.

 

Compared to Kurapika, Biscuit thought that sparring with Gon was a fiasco. Kurapika had been training, after all – he fought like an investigator, used the weapons in his hand and at his back well. He had control over himself and his motions. Most of her trainees had been similar, but Kurapika had been an unfairly apt example of what most investigators strived for. It made it all the more jarring to move from him to Gon. Gon...

Gon fought like an animal, a feral street rat.

His body hit the wall, hard enough that the weight of the impact shook the floor. But he was already ricocheting off it, springing forward as if he'd been launched. Biscuit had knocked the blade from his hands long before, leaving him on the defensive with only the writhing organ at his back. Or, he _should_ have been on the defensive. Instead, he'd tucked into a roll as if trying to bowl her over. Hissing in annoyance, Biscuit sidestepped the boy easily, swatting his kagune away from her leg with her blade and kicking him squarely in the neck. It made him grunt, flinching back from the blow, and Biscuit took the chance to strike.

“Not good enough,” Biscuit said in a clear voice, not moving her blade from its position. Gon groaned as he looked up at the ceiling, and it made her want to swat him again. He knew that despite the sword's point pressed against his neck, she wouldn't press forward.

Even if he would almost certainly heal from it.

It wasn't like it was a real blade anyway.

“Okay,” Gon replied, and his voice was genuinely tired. It was only to be expected, after being trapped in the training room with her for almost three hours. Frowning, Biscuit finally lowered her weapon. He was just starting out, in many ways. It was easy to forget, with how violent and terrifying he had proven himself to be. Her clothing was soaked through with sweat, and it was only her years of training that was letting her outlast him. He had better instincts than she had – both at his age and when she had started training herself.

Just like his infamous father, Gon Freecss was practically a monster.

“Need a break?”

“A ghoul wouldn't give me a break,” he said immediately, before forcing himself to his feet. His legs were shaking, Biscuit noted with a hint of distaste. He should have been at home with his mother, not fighting a middle-aged ghoul investigator tooth and nail.

There was a dark stain on the floor where he had been, Bisky realized abruptly and with a sudden stab of fear. Blood was smeared against his right leg, a wide streak of red. When had she hit him hard enough to break the skin? Surely she would have noticed – bruises, yes, enough to cover him in purple, but there was no way she would have drawn blood without knowing it.

“Gon, wait. Wait, I said! Sit down this instant, you're bleeding.” It seemed to catch Gon off-guard, and he looked down at himself automatically. He hadn't noticed, which seemed just like him. Despite her words – her order, really – he didn't make any motion to sit. Instead, Gon merely flushed bright red.

“Oh.” There was a hint of despair in his voice, and Gon dropped his weapon to tug the hem of his shirt down. “Bisky, sorry, I-”

“You're menstruating,” she said flatly. Gon nodded, his expression turning miserable. Biscuit wondered if he had hoped to disguise it as an injury, to avoid the topic entirely. It was easy to forget that it was even a concern for him. “Have you had cramps this whole time?”

“... yes.” Gon's tone was reluctant, like he was a child admitting to his mother that he'd broken a lamp or eaten the cookies. It wouldn't have seemed out of place if he'd started scuffing his shoes on the floor.

Definitely a monster.

“Right. Then we're stopping, you're getting cleaned up, and then you're going home.” She planted her hands on her hips, gripping the hilt of her sword tightly. Gon was frustrating, so he would protest. And, just as expected, it came immediately.

“But I c-” Gon's words ceased abruptly as she slapped the back of his head, knocking him forward. “Ow! Bisky!”

“What did I say? Repeat it to me.” He wouldn't have tried so hard to resist if it had been Kite's orders, she thought. Even if Gon didn't like what he was hearing, if it came from Kite he listened. Like a stubborn dog that only had one master. Biscuit wondered if he would have listened to Ging if the man was around. Who else did he listen to? His mother?

“Do I _have_ to go home, Bisky? I can still do stuff, even if it's not what I was supposed to be here for. Mito-san is working too, I don't have anything else to do. It's okay if I stay here, isn't it?”

“Wouldn't you rather be spending time with your friends?” It was a stupid question, and she knew it as soon as the words left her lips. For a moment, it almost seemed like the boy hadn't processed her words, but his jaw clenched and his eyebrows drew tightly together. Gon's fingers curled into the hem of his shirt, and the eyes that looked up at her were mismatched. The sight was jarring, and Biscuit felt her pulse start to accelerate. She was so used to eyes like that being a part of a life or death struggle that just looking at him made adrenaline start to flow. “Gon. Your kakugan.”

“Eh? Oh! S-sorry, I... Sometimes it just...” Gon rubbed at his eye, like it would magically turn the pupil and sclera back to normal. Just the fact that it had happened was concerning. It was unacceptable if Gon's kakugan was activating without his control. That was simply too dangerous to allow – for the most part, Gon was still living a normal life.

“Does that happen often?” Biscuit's tone was sharp, but it was probably good that he understood the seriousness of the question. Gon shook his head, before pausing to consider it. He pursed his lips, bringing one hand up to them. His eye was brown again at the very least, a matching set once more.

“If I get angry,” Gon admitted. A drop of blood pattered from his shorts onto the floor, and Biscuit sighed. She didn’t know if that was normal. How long had he been bleeding, that it had soaked through his clothes and was flowing enough to drip to the mats? The whole thing was worrying to her, though she kept it from showing on her face. She knew too little about menstruation, really. Across several decades, she’d only had about three actual periods. That had been a silver lining, Biscuit thought. Everything else about it had been awful, of course.

“Okay, out you go. You're going to stain your clothes, let's go.” Instead of allowing him to leave a trail of blood on the floor, Biscuit handed him a towel. It was too small to wrap around his waist, but enough to wedge between his thighs and soak up what was flowing between them. Gon looked at it for a long moment, as if he didn’t understand. “You had best use that or I’ll make you wash the floors down with a toothbrush.”

“Yes!” She wondered if Gon knew it wasn’t true. He didn’t seem like he wanted to test it.

“Do you have any… supplies, with you?”

Gon hesitated noticeably, and it twisted her stomach up. Biscuit didn’t want to discuss it with him. He didn’t want to discuss it with her. Being reminded of it seemed to just be making him uncomfortable. Was it better to let the boy sort out his own bodily functions, or should she be helping him out?

“I think so,” he said finally, though his expression was glum. Gon, apparently, would rather stick his fingers in his ears and hum until this particular problem went away than deal with it. It didn’t seem like him. He was normally so proactive. “Mito-san and Killua usually make sure I have something in my bag just in case.”

Biscuit sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. Gon had a change of clothes, of course – he wouldn’t go home in the athletic clothes he wore while training. All she could really do was get him cleaned up and sent off. “Well, don’t you give me that look, go on! Change your clothes, get yourself sorted out, and then you’re going straight home.”

“But Bisky-”

“No buts, let’s go! You did well today, you should be happy with that.”

Gon puffed his cheeks out, a dark reminder that he was just a boy. He should never have been here, but he was and he was doing better than any older recruit ever had. As much as she hated that, Biscuit had to concede it. Gon was _good_ at fighting – Gon was tough and noticed everything, had good instincts. His only real problem was not being fast enough to dodge or counter what he saw coming. He was terrifying, in essence. Once he had a better grip on things…

“Sorry, Bisky,” Gon said, leaning over to tie his shoelaces. He looked better now, with a change of clothes. It wasn’t as if she would suddenly relent, though – he was going home, whether he wanted to or not. “I guess I’m not really a great student.”

“It’s not as if you’re my first stubborn student, you know! I’ve been training investigators for almost twenty years!” Though she was annoyed, trying to scold him into behaving, Gon merely widened his eyes in shock. He planted his hands on the bench, looking up at her with unbridled curiosity.

“Really? That’s incredible! Bisky, who did you train? Do I know any of them? Not Ging, right?” There was too much excitement already in his expression, and Biscuit crossed her arms over her chest. Even with her irritation clear on her face, Gon was undeterred. The fact that what she’d said was somehow thrilling and impressive to him felt good for her ego, but terrible for her instinct to keep him safe.

“Of course not. Besides, you don’t actually know him, now, do you?”

“I guess that’s true.” Gon, somehow, didn’t appear to be troubled at all by the words. He was remarkably practical in that way. It was hard to hurt him, because he took very few things negatively. He leaned forward eagerly, clearly not intending to drop the topic. “But, really! Who did you train, Bisky? Did they all become really strong investigators?”

“Not all of them,” Biscuit said, trying to keep her tone even. She couldn’t let it get to her, the recent memories. Even if it hurt, she was used to it. Losing people was a part of being an investigator – even if this way had been so unexpected. “I only had one student who left. He wasn’t suited to the job – he was too cautious, thought too much. He didn’t like to act until he felt he didn’t have a choice.”

“Oh… Well, I guess that’s good then. That he left.” There was something that wasn’t quite disappointment in Gon’s eyes. He hummed a little, swaying faintly as he considered it. Quickly, he seemed to come to a conclusion that made sense to him. “If he had become an investigator, wouldn’t he have gotten hurt?”

“He got hurt anyway.” It was too flat, too bitter. Gon’s eyebrows drew together, his expression growing thoughtful. She was sure he could read it in her eyes, on her face, and his own face started to fall and grow more somber.

“He died.”

“Yes.”

“What happened to him?”

“Listen, you… I don’t think you want to hear this.” Gon said nothing, but his gaze only intensified. He wouldn’t let it go, Biscuit realized immediately. It would be better not to stretch it out, and get it over with immediately. “He was my first student outside of lectures. It wasn’t that he wasn’t attentive, though he was sloppy in other ways. I had to get him to tuck his shirt in all the time, even though he was almost twenty. Maybe I was too light on him. Maybe I was too hard on him. I don’t know. I’m sure he would have died much sooner if he had graduated the Academy. He left the life of an investigator, and he should have left the life of ghouls. And then he became a statistic – just another name on the news. Him and… God, him and that little boy. And then you came.”

It didn’t take more than that for Gon to realize. His serious expression crumpled, his face growing ever-so-faintly pale. She saw his jaw start to shake, before he clenched it hard. The shine in Gon’s eyes wasn’t excitement in the slightest, not anymore. When he spoke, his voice sounded strange – a voice she had never heard from him. Not tears, not quite. Not quite anger. Something between the two.

“Wing-san.”

“Yes.”

“Bisky, I…”

“This is the kind of life you’re willingly stepping into, you know.” Biscuit knew her tone was harsh, but Gon’s expression didn’t change in the slightest. She didn’t know if the words hadn’t sunk in, if they had bounced off him. What else could she possibly tell him that he didn’t know? Why did he still want this? “Ging, Ging, Ging” - that was what he said. Wasn’t there a better way? One that wouldn’t risk him losing everything? “What happened to Wing was… It could have been anyone, but it ended up being him. It was being betrayed by chance, bad luck. But, Gon, if you keep going down this path, you will be getting closer and closer to ghouls. And the closer you get, the more you risk your luck running out. No matter how strong you are, you can lose.”

“… I know.”

“Do you really? Have you thought about them, all the people in your life? All the people who you’ll leave behind if you die? How will they react, if one day you don’t come home because you were chasing after ghouls?”

Only silence greeted her, though Biscuit knew nothing she said would actually sway him. It might upset him to hear, but it wouldn’t turn him away. Why was Gon the way he was? She didn’t understand anything about the boy. He didn’t make sense – his mind operated on a completely different level from everyone else. He was like his father, she thought again. Gon was just like his father. So of course, she couldn’t understand him.

He had answers for her questions, but they never seemed quite right. He was smart, but stubbornly stupid. Nothing she said could make him stop and simply listen if he didn't want to. So all Biscuit could do was watch him and listen herself, while he fought and learned and…

“ _Mito-san and Killua usually make sure...”_

And loved, she supposed.

“Do you want to leave Killua behind?”

Gon’s shoulders stiffened.

“Gon… go home for today. I want you to think about this. I want you to really, truly think about it. Go home. Don’t come back tomorrow. I won’t tell you to never come back. But if you do, I won’t be light on you.”

“… okay.”


	51. Chapter 51

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Halloween! Happy Halloween everybody. Sorry that this chapter isn't very festive, but, maybe it would be weird if it was.
> 
> I sort of want to put a general trigger warning on this chapter - some stuff gets heavy and it might be a little emotionally taxing. It was a little taxing for me to write. I sort of channeled a lot of my recent feelings into it re: emotions. I don't know if it's something that will hit my audience particularly hard or not - I feel like maybe I'm playing it up and you guys will be underwhelmed.
> 
> But here's the reason I wanted to say this: There's a dissociative episode in this chapter. I don't feel like I lovingly depict it in graphic detail, but I don't gloss over it either. If you feel like this would trigger you to dissociate, please, please take care of yourself and be careful if you choose to read this chapter.

When Gon opened the door, it was immediately obvious that something was wrong. Killua let his hands fall to his sides, feeling a lump settle deep in his stomach. Something was wrong. The smell of blood filled his nostrils, and his heart started to race. He wasn’t hungry, and so the scent only made him feel sick and worried.

“Hey,” he said, his voice faltering a little. Gon grinned at him, but it was a little weak, a little hollow. Based on the way the other boy’s expression faltered, he hadn’t managed to keep his confusion off his face.

“I’m okay,” Gon said, though he didn’t seem sure of his own words. His teeth worried at his lower lip, and he frowned heavily. Killua said nothing, simply trying to read Gon’s face for answers. The suspicion, now regular, that Gon was hiding something climbed up into his throat. “I just, um… I started my period, and I wasn’t expecting it, and then the doorbell rang, and… Killua, can you… give me a minute?”

“Y-yeah, go ahead, I’ll just… wait on the couch,” Killua stammered, his voice cracking embarrassingly on the words. Without saying anything else, Gon simply turned away from him, practically bolting down the hallway.

Gon had been flustered, Killua knew. Of course he had – the situation wasn’t great. The fact that he’d even answered the door was utterly baffling. Gon knew it was him, and Gon surely knew he was fully capable of waiting five minutes while the other boy cleaned himself up. In his head, Killua counted backwards. It was too soon for Gon to be menstruating, but his period had never been particularly stable. He sat down on the couch, doing his best to keep himself from dwelling too much on it. There was never a _reason_ for Gon’s body to do something random and unpleasant. It just happened.

When Gon returned, it was with a new pair of pants and a nervous grin.

“Sorry,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. Killua shrugged, hoping it didn’t show that he was worried. Even if he tried it squeeze it out of Gon before he was ready, it wouldn’t do any good. Knowing something had happened hurt, and knowing there was little he could do about it hurt more. “I, well… It just, really caught me off guard this time.”

“It always catches you off guard,” Killua said wryly, a perhaps transparent attempt to lighten the uncomfortable atmosphere. Gon was too perceptive to not realize it, he thought, but maybe it would work anyway. “When was the last time you were actually prepared for that?”

“Um… I don’t know.” Gon sat down next to him, taking hold of one of his hands and just looking at it. Making no move to pull away, Killua merely raised his eyebrows at the other boy. He wanted to ask, wanted to know what was on Gon’s mind. And it was completely pointless, because he knew he wouldn’t do it. Part of him, Killua knew, was just afraid of what the answer might be. “Killua, do you...”

Silence settled over them, Gon’s words trailing off into nothingness. Did Gon _want_ him to pursue the line of thought? Though he was doing a good job of hiding it, Killua knew that the other boy was growing more and more troubled by whatever was spinning around in his mind.

“Do I what?”

“Mm… nah, forget it.” Gon turned his hand over, lacing their fingers together and squeezing. His grin seemed genuine, and it was a relief. That was why Killua was so annoyed at the words that came out of his own mouth before he could stop them.

“Stupid. Like I could.”

“Maybe you could!” Gon leaned against him, his cheeks dimpling. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Killua rested his cheek against the top of Gon’s head. Gon’s hair, gelled up in its typical spikes, tickled at his face. He smashed it down without any care – if it bothered Gon, the other boy could fix it later. “I think Killua can do pretty much anything.”

“Don’t be so embarrassing, seriously!”

Gon stuck his tongue out, and he flicked the other boy’s nose with his free hand. The yelp it netted him was oddly relieving, and so was the way Gon kicked his feet. Whatever it was, though he hated it, he would have to let it go. “Ow, Killua! Don’t do that!”

“Yeah? What’ll you do about it?”

“I’ll kiss you,” Gon said immediately, puffing his cheeks out stubbornly. It was one of the stupidest answers he could have given, and Killua wondered if that was intentional. It had to be – Gon really did know how to manipulate him, after all.

“That’s not a punishment,” Killua replied dully, before flicking Gon’s nose again.

When Gon kissed him it was aggressive, his hands gripping Killua’s shoulders hard. It actually hurt, and if not for Gon’s lips against his he might have jumped back, pulled away. Barely seconds had passed before Gon was pinning him to the couch, and Killua abruptly wondered if he was having a dream that would turn quickly to a nightmare. Gon’s lips were incredibly chapped, as if he’d been chewing on them.

He cupped Gon’s cheeks with both hands, pushing his face away and freeing his mouth to speak. Gon was flushed and determined, almost looking dizzy. His lips parted, showing his teeth, and for a moment he seemed as if he’d press forward again to recapture him. Killua swallowed hard, wanting nothing more than to let Gon just kiss him until he forgot his own name.

It hadn’t been a punishment in the slightest.

“Gon, what?”

“Killua, I like you.” His question went unanswered, though Killua felt his heart starting to pump faster. It was stupid how such a little thing could get him so excited. Gon’s grip on him tightened, and Killua didn’t move when Gon leaned in again. All the thoughts that something was wrong were pushed into the back of his mind, banishing the tiny part of him that considered resisting. Instead, Killua merely let Gon do as he pleased, as always. Gon’s fingers dug into his arms, and something about his kiss was needy.

Killua let his eyelids drift shut, parting his lips under Gon’s and surrendering completely to that satisfying pain. Gon pushed him down onto his back, climbing on top of him to trap him completely under his weight. It wasn’t something Gon would have been able to do a year ago. But he’d packed on so much muscle that it was easy now, especially given the fact that Killua had no interest in struggling even playfully. He wound his arms around Gon’s waist, holding the other boy loosely.

Letting Gon do whatever he wanted, it felt right somehow. Maybe it wasn’t – he didn’t know. But at least in that moment, and in so many others, he simply didn’t want to resist. Doing whatever Gon wanted him to do was easy, and Gon’s smile made him happy.

“Hey,” he mumbled, and Gon laughed against him. His hands slid from Killua’s arms to his cheeks, cupping them to hold him in place. Something that was somehow tense and light at the same time settled firmly in his stomach, and Killua couldn’t help smiling. Gon’s forehead bumped against his as he laughed again, before tilting his head to press their lips back together.

“Mito-san’s making pasta tonight,” Gon said, half the words spoken directly into his mouth. Killua groaned, letting his head fall back against the arm of the couch. It seemed to surprise Gon, who squeezed his cheeks a little as his eyebrows furrowed. “What, what?”  
“Don’t talk about your mom while you’re kissing me, stupid!”

The abashed expression on Gon’s face made Killua want to roll his eyes. He knew what Gon had been about to say was “Do you want to eat with us”, and he was certain Gon knew that _he_ knew it. Even though it was the last thing he wanted to do – he’d eaten earlier, real food that he could actually digest, disgusting as the origins were – Killua knew he would say yes. Hopefully when he threw up later, when he was bent over and heaving, the only thing in his stomach would be pasta. Throwing up that hard-earned human flesh and wasting it… but, he couldn’t think of that.

“Well, I mean…”

“Yeah, I’ll stay.”

“Good!” That was all that Gon said before they were kissing again, Gon’s hands on his shoulders as if to keep him from moving. He could do it forever – letting Gon kiss him, getting lost in it, forgetting everything that was terrible and thinking only about what was good. Thinking only about Gon. Killua sighed into Gon’s mouth, and kissed him back.

Gon kissed him, and he didn’t want it to end.

But when Gon started to shake against him, it had to.

“Hey,” Killua began hesitantly, and before he could think of what to follow it up with, Gon buried his face in his chest and shuddered. His throat felt tight when he swallowed, and when he started to let go of Gon, the other boy grabbed onto his shirt immediately. It was an undeniably possessive gesture, Gon clinging harder to him. “Gon, what…”

“I just,” Gon choked out, his voice sounding strangled and wrong. Faintly, Killua wished it was a dream – if it was a dream, he would be able to wake up and Gon would smile. If it was a dream, it meant Gon wasn’t starting to weep into his chest, meant his tears weren’t soaking through Killua’s shirt. But the words finally started to spill out, and Killua felt his stomach lurch and his pulse start to race.

 

Biscuit thought back to Gon, remembering the way his face had twisted up in what must have been despair. He was a child. It had been a mistake, she’d known immediately, and she could only berate herself for not being wise enough to keep the information to herself. He was a child, and he couldn’t handle what she had told him. He hadn’t moved on yet, because he couldn’t.

 

“Zushi’s dead,” Gon sobbed, tears and snot dripping down his face. “Zushi’s dead, Wing-san is dead, I didn’t even – I was, I!”

Killua’s breathing was too shallow. He’d forced himself not to think about it, had buried it all deep inside, let it fester, failed to face it. And it was back and he was back there, that dim alley, Wing’s broken glasses, Zushi’s fear, the smell of blood, his racing heartbeat, Illumi’s cold eyes.

“ _I’m gonna keep you safe, okay?”_

He hadn’t. He hadn’t, and he’d read the confusion in Zushi’s eyes as the reality of his failure sank in.

“ _I’m gonna keep you safe.”_ How laughable. He couldn’t keep anyone safe. Not Zushi. Not Alluka. With all of those hideous failures stacking up, how could he possibly think he could protect Gon?

“I was mean to Zushi,” Gon wept, and Killua couldn’t restrain himself from throwing his arms around Gon and squeezing tightly. But it didn’t feel like anything. It didn’t feel real. The tears on his face were his own. Gon’s weight was against him, and it should have been reassuring.

It should have been, but all it made him think of was how heavy Zushi’s body had been in his arms.

“Don’t,” Killua managed, his voice hoarse. He didn’t feel like he was there at all, a stranger behind a screen, observing Gon’s misery. A disgusting voyeur, watching as Gon broke down. Was he even actually speaking? Could Gon hear him, or were his lips not moving at all? “Don’t say that kind of thing.”

“It’s true! The last time I saw him, the last time we talked, I was so rude and I lost my temper and-!” Gon scrubbed at his face with the back of his hand, smearing the mess of fluids there, and as soon as he lowered it again Killua snatched at his cheeks and smashed their lips together. The way Gon kissed him back was violent, careless. When he grabbed Killua’s shoulders again his fingers dug in immediately, his grip so strong that his fingers shook. It hurt. The pain kept him grounded, yanked him back fully to reality. Gon bit him, sinking his teeth into his lower lip, and Killua groaned in something that wasn’t quite pain.

“Gon-!”

“Killua, you can’t go anywhere! You have to stay here, I w-won’t let you go anywhere! If, if Killua left, I’d-! I won’t let you leave, I _won’t!_ ”

“I,” Killua started, before his voice cracked. He tried to swallow, to speak again, and nothing happened. There was a cold, solid mass in his stomach, the remains of something that had been someone. Killua wanted to vomit. Illumi had… But _he_ had… His mind was fuzzy again, and he could do nothing to fix it. He couldn’t fix himself.

Gon’s breathing was ragged, growing more and more unsteady and desperate. Even through his own haze, Killua knew what it was – something he had never seen happen to Gon before, but something that was so familiar to him. He could feel Gon’s heartbeat against him, pounding too hard and too fast.

What could he do? How could he even think of helping Gon, when he was completely unable to help himself? The more he thought about it, the worse it got – Gon, panting against him, dizzy and lost and looking as if he would be sick, and his own mind so dulled that he couldn’t even speak. Something was tight around his chest, cutting off his air, heavy and painful.

Thoughtlessly, Killua tried to shake it off of him, and nothing happened. He didn’t know if it was real, if what he was feeling was something genuine or just in his own mind. He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know if he was awake, or even if he was alive. He couldn’t breathe.

Killua shoved, and Gon fell off the couch with a thump, taking Killua’s shirt with him. The fabric ripped loudly, utterly destroying the garment, and for a moment they only stared at each other. Gon’s eyes were wide, and his expression was utterly devastated, and it was only then that Killua realized exactly what had just happened.

He’d pushed Gon away.

Gon hiccuped, and without a single thought in his head Killua was lunging, throwing his arms around Gon and pinning him to the floor. The other boy smelled wrong, smelled like blood and tears and rotting flesh and _ghouls_ and he didn’t know if it was in his head or real. Nothing was right, it was all twisted and horrible and all he had was Gon.

“I’m _sorry_ ,” Killua gasped, his chest heaving with each desperate breath. His body felt cold, his limbs light, his head empty and hollow. Gon’s breathing was frantic, ragged and awful to hear. He was failing – he was building Gon’s panic higher and higher, feeding his fear. Even as he squeezed harder, Gon was struggling against him, writhing and kicking. “I d-didn’t, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, I wasn’t-”

Gon kneed him squarely in the gut, rolled over in his loosening embrace, and vomited.

Killua clapped his hands over his mouth, curling up into a ball as the contents of his own battered stomach threatened to join what was already on the floor. The smell that hit him was overpowering, and Killua kicked his feet to push himself away from the puddle on the floor. The sound of Gon throwing up was visceral, and Killua squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered pathetically. He wanted it to be a dream. He’d close his eyes and when he opened them again, he’d be in his room, in his bed, and it would all have been a nightmare.

Killua opened his eyes again, and all he saw was Gon wobbling to his feet. The other boy wasn’t looking at him. He didn’t think Gon was looking at anything at all. His legs were shaking, and vomit was smeared down his chin and shirt. Killua wanted to bury his face in the floor. Instead, he forced himself to stand up, ignoring the pain still throbbing in his stomach where Gon had hit him, and took Gon’s hand.

Gon followed him to the bathroom on unsteady legs, saying absolutely nothing. Killua didn’t think he had anything to say either. He couldn’t meet his own eyes in the bathroom mirror. They looked as pathetic as he felt – him, with his shirt ripped open and a bruise forming across his abdomen, and Gon, glassy-eyed and covered in vomit, both of their faces red and swollen from crying. He bypassed the mirror entirely, and turned the shower on instead.

With neither of them able to speak, Killua pulled Gon’s soiled shirt up and over his shoulders and threw it aside. Gon’s eyes met his only briefly, and then the other boy was looking down at his feet in shame. Killua swallowed hard. Nothing came to mind – no way to console Gon, no joke to make. He tugged Gon’s binder off, then his belt, then his pants. Gon didn’t make any move to stop him – even in the exhausted haze he was in, he seemed aware enough of what was happening. Killua stripped what was left of his shirt off, then shed the rest of his clothing without any thought. It was just going through the motions, moving without needing to focus on it at all.

Even the smell of fresh blood and the sight of it on Gon’s bare thighs scarcely registered. Even seeing Gon nude, seeing every part of him, felt like nothing. He couldn’t even be happy that he wasn’t aroused. Everything felt so far away that he couldn’t even remember what emotion felt like.

Killua didn’t know how Gon trusted him so much.

They were standing there together in that bathroom – the bathroom where Gon had kissed him for the first _real_ time – completely nude, and Gon didn’t seem to care at all. He wasn’t nervous at being seen naked. He wasn’t embarrassed or ashamed. He wasn’t scared of what Killua might do. He was just numb, and tired.

But that was both of them.

The Freecss family had a proper bath, not like the shower in his apartment. As he washed Gon down, sending soap and vomit and menstrual blood swirling down the drain, neither of them spoke. It wasn’t until he wrapped his arms around Gon’s waist, pressing his chest against the other boy’s back, that Gon said anything. One of his hands rested on Killua’s wrist, before pulling it away.

“Killua, don’t.”

Killua swallowed hard, and let go. He wondered if the pain coursing through him was what Gon had felt when he’d pushed the other boy away. He said nothing, and Gon filled the silence.

“I don’t like it. It’s stupid. I like holding Killua, and I like it when you hold me back. It’s okay face to face, and it’s okay if I do it to Killua… Holding you like that. Isn’t that stupid? But I don’t like when Killua does it. That’s selfish, I think, but… It feels bad. It feels like…” Gon’s words trailed off, and he hunched over a little. Hiding. He knew what Gon was actually saying, what he had been saying no to. It wasn’t a rejection of him, just what he had done. Killua curled his fingers into fists. Gon didn’t like being held like that, unable to face him. “I don’t know why. I know Killua doesn’t… I know you don’t think of me like that. But, what you just did, Killua, I hate it. It… felt like you were treating me like I was a girl.”

“I won’t do it again,” Killua whispered. Gon smiled at him, a little pained. He pushed the thoughts of that aside, in favor of the kinder, warmer feeling of Gon's hands on his body, washing his hair and skin. That lingering contact, even in the silence, made Killua feel like they had managed to create something that felt almost like normalcy. Quiet intimacy, simply washing each other's bodies without a word or dwelling thought. But still, part of him felt empty, and Gon's eyes spoke of the same pain.

Killua forced it away, like everything else.

When they climbed into the tub together, it was Gon who held him.


	52. Chapter 52

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey-o it's a chapter

“Do you ever consider the idea that you might be overworking yourself?” Leorio's words had a bite to them, and Kurapika wanted to throw the weight in his right hand directly into the other man's face. If he broke Leorio's nose, surely he'd stop shoving it where it didn't belong. Instead he tossed the weight into the air and caught it easily, turning a withering glare at Leorio who at least had the decency to back away. “Kinda proving my point here.”

“I don't recall ever asking for your input,” Kurapika said, clipping his words short to make it clear he wasn't interested in the discussion Leorio was pushing for. Just the sight of the other man made his fingers twitch; he wasn't sure when it had happened, but somehow Leorio had instilled some sort of Pavlovian irritation response with his constant nagging. It wasn't as if he'd been in anything resembling a good mood to begin with, though. Somehow, he'd felt needlessly frustrated and nauseous all day. “Do you need something or are you wasting my time again?”

“What crawled up your ass?”

Kurapika looked at the weight in his hand again, pointedly. Somehow, he didn't even care to apply a filter. The sudden flood of anger in the pit of his stomach burned. “Generally, “stop being so stressed” is a poor thing to say to someone who is under stress.”

“I'm no- what the hell? That's not what I said and you know it.” He thought, perhaps, that he'd annoyed Leorio right back. Maybe it would be cathartic to scream at him. Though, Kurapika knew it would only make things worse. He squeezed the weight before throwing it into his other hand, typing out a few words with his newly free fingers.

For a moment the only sound was chair legs scraping against the floor and the tsking noise that Leorio made as he sat. He was holding a manilla file folder loosely in one hand, one that Kurapika was sure he would learn the contents of soon enough.

“What do you want?” It was an invitation to be berated. Kurapika scowled even as he said the words. But it was better to get it over with.

“You didn't learn anything from passing out during blood work, did you. Not enough sleep, not enough food, and you turn into an asshole.” The file hit the table next to him, and Leorio crossed his arms over his chest with a huff. “Your damn files. From the chairman, god only knows why.”

That, at least, was something like good news. Not meeting Leorio's eyes, he reached out and snagged the folder. Soon enough the other man would ask and then he could tell him to mind his own business. The least he could do was read the response he'd gotten before that happened.

Kurapika let his eyes drop to the papers in front of him. Forms to sign, of course. He flipped those over; they could wait. A document detailing the quinx framework system that he'd already read, and another that he hadn't. “Hm.”

“... so?”

Of course.

“It's classified.”

“You're unbelievable.”

“Oh, come now. You had to have known that before asking.”

Leorio stared at him, shaking his head wordlessly. “We're supposed to be teammates, or... something. Of course I'm gonna ask – can't a guy be worried?”

“We were teammates. Now we are not. I'm a member of Dalzollene's team, and you've been recommended for work under Cheadle. Our only common ground is that we've been... modified, and this apartment.” Kurapika closed the folder, tapping his fingers against it briskly. “Why are you still here?”

“Not even a thank-you. You're really something, you know that?”

“What an astounding oversight. Thank you _so_ much, Mr. Paladiknight, I am _ever_ so grateful to you. However will I express this gratitude? Should I kiss your feet?” Something was wrong with him, he thought. Kurapika pinched at the bridge of his nose, holding a hand up to stop Leorio's indignant retort before it began. How had it become so easy to snap at the other man? “I'm... sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“... right.” Neither of them spoke for a long while, both looking away from the other. “Look, are you...”

“I'm fine,” Kurapika said tersely, though he suspected he wasn't. At this rate he'd get an ulcer – dealing with the Harlequin was too much, but he had no other options. His stomach was already aching over it. That wasn't something he had any desire to share with Leorio, though. The faint, repetitive click of his fingernails against the table was a small, bizarre comfort. “I'll be fine.”

The way Leorio looked at him was uncomfortable. Kurapika didn't like that gaze – there was something there that he didn't quite comprehend, and it made him horridly self-conscious. He wondered sometimes if Leorio could tell, if that was why he did it in the first place. To make him nervous. Turning back to his computer, Kurapika tried to ignore the feeling of Leorio's eyes on him.

It wasn't in Leorio's nature, he knew, to do something petty like that. He was frustrating and not the most intelligent, but he wasn't a bad person.

“You're staring, you know,” Kurapika said eventually, his fingers pausing over the keys. It was only then that Leorio looked away, and out of the corner of his eye he could see the other man flush and cover his mouth with a faked cough. “I'm not going to pass out the second you take your eyes off me.”

“Wh- yeah, yeah. Sure.”

Something floated unsaid in the room, unreadable to him. Kurapika stiffened his shoulders; he was missing it, but he couldn't ask. Not for the first time, he wished Pairo was beside him to whisper in his ear and dissolve the tension with an answer.

Uncomfortable.

Leorio made him uncomfortable, and he didn't know why. There was a sense of unwarranted familiarity to his actions, a closeness that he hadn't earned. It was disconcerting in too many ways.

“I need t-”

“Look, I-”

Kurapika paused, his mouth hanging open and his words dying on his lips. Leorio made a tsking sound, leaning forward and shaking his head in irritation. It took Kurapika a moment to collect himself again. “Sorry, you c-”

“Forget it, just-”

Something in Leorio's expression made it seem like he was longing for death. He rested his elbows on the table, cradling his head in his hands. It was a bit of a dramatic response, Kurapika thought, but Leorio overreacted to all sorts of things.

“I,” Kurapika said slowly, closing his laptop with a light snap, “Need to pick up a document from Senritsu. I'll be back later this evening.”

“... sure. Senritsu, sure. Right. Do you, er. You gonna eat while you're out, or...”

“I have plans for dinner, yes.” Unfortunately, he did – meeting, again, with their disgusting informant. He doubted he'd have an appetite after that, of course, but it was a necessary evil. To some degree, Kurapika was nervous about it. Not so much about meeting with a ghoul, more that his progression towards his goal was potentially at stake. If he messed things up, he might have to start from zero once more.

Somehow, the words seemed to deflate Leorio. It bothered him, that sudden dejected expression. Leorio was overstepping the bounds of their relationship, Kurapika thought. Seeing something – or believing something – that wasn't there.

“We aren't friends,” he wanted to say, but instead Kurapika bit his tongue.

A business relationship at the very best. They weren't friends, and Leorio's feelings didn't matter. Even so, the older man was considering something, staring at the table with his lips parted, as if he was considering speaking.

Sighing a little, Kurapika leaned forward to collect his belongings and slide them into his briefcase. He wished he could pick up his quinque before meeting with Harlequin, for safety's sake. But explaining why he needed it was another hassle, one that could destroy the evening's plans.

He simply didn't have time for that. The kagune at his back would have to suffice as his defense if things went sour. And it didn't seem unlikely that something would go wrong, so it was best to err on the side of caution.

“Goodbye, Leorio,” Kurapika said.

He didn't look at the other man's face as the door closed behind him.

It was better that way.


	53. Chapter 53

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to the suffering zone, please enjoy your stay.

When Killua opened his eyes, it was to dawn’s light streaming through his window. He groaned, rolling over onto his side. With his fuzzy mind, Killua merely wrapped his arms around his pillow and buried his face in it. He stretched his legs out, sighing. It would be easier to just go back to sleep, rather than confronting a new day. Summer vacation meant he had the time to sleep in. Eventually, though, he would make himself get up, dig breakfast out of the fridge, and later, go see-

“Killua?”

Gon’s voice made him jerk in place, and Killua scrambled into a sitting position. He squinted in confusion, snatching his shirt off the ground and tugging it on. Had he actually heard Gon speak, or was it some remnant of a dream?

After all, he was in his own apartment.

Killua forced himself to his feet, a strange mixture of nerves writhing in his chest. It felt stupid. Gon had never been inside his apartment for more than five minutes, so there was no way he was there now. But Killua couldn’t help padding through the halls and checking every room – the bathroom, the kitchen, the den. Each one made him feel more foolish. It only confirmed what he had already logically known. Of course Gon wasn’t there. The mere idea was completely nonsensical. He’d fallen asleep again, and started to dream. There had been no point in checking.

At least it told him that Hisoka hadn’t broken in when he was sleeping.

Maybe it would have been nicer if Gon _had_ been there. But probably not. Killua pulled the door to the refrigerator open, staring at the plastic bags sitting innocuously on the shelves. It didn’t really matter which one he pulled out. All but one bag contained ghoul flesh, each one marked with the date when he had collected it. Grinding his teeth, Killua selected the bag with the earliest date on it. It wasn’t as if he could let it spoil. There was something hideous about wasting his actual food.

Gon didn’t murder for his breakfast.

Even then, it tasted fine. It was hard to mess it up. His victim had been fat, almost as fat as Milluki had been the last time he’d seen his brother. Somehow, it had felt almost right. A fat ghoul was, almost certainly, a ghoul who was taking more lives than he needed to. And now he wouldn’t anymore. The fat he had built up with wasteful killing had sizzled in the pan, and he had become a meal for someone else.

There was some twisted karma in it, Killua thought. Mostly, though, there was only breakfast.

His phone rang as he scrubbed the dishes, and Killua sighed as he dried his hands off and wandered into his room to find it. As usual, he’d shoved it under his pillow at some point the night before. The caller I.D. told him, as he expected, that it was Gon calling him.

“Hey, morning” he said, and Gon’s surprised inhalation made him want to roll his eyes. Somehow, it was just incredibly frustrating. “You called me, you don’t have any right to be shocked when I pick up.”

“Ah, sorry! No, it’s not that, it’s just that… Killua, normally when I call you this early I’m waking you up!” Gon wasn’t wrong, and Killua hummed in reluctant agreement. Lately, Gon had been calling him with some frequency. “Er… Sorry for calling so early. I just sort of… It’s kind of embarrassing, actually…”

“Gon, you can’t say that and just trail off. How am I supposed to make fun of you for it if you don’t tell me?” As he spoke, Killua made his way back into the kitchen. Gon’s bashful laughter sounded in his ear, grainy and muffled from the phone but still his favorite sound in the world. Closing his eyes, Killua pulled his phone away from his mouth so that Gon couldn’t hear his sigh. “Come on, spill.”

“Ummmmm… Well, I just really thought, “I want to hear Killua’s voice!” It felt a little silly, though.”

Killua was suddenly glad that they were talking over the phone, because it meant that Gon couldn’t see him flush.

“You’re right, that is embarrassing. How lame, you sap.” For a moment Gon only laughed, but something about it didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel forced, but at the same time it didn’t feel completely genuine. Was it right to pursue that? Killua gripped his shirt hard, as if to channel all of the sudden negativity into that action instead of letting it enter his voice. “Seriously, though. It’s so uncool, especially because you thought you were gonna wake me up!”

For a moment, Gon said nothing at all.

“I guess it was selfish,” he mumbled finally, and Killua felt something heavy and unpleasant start to squeeze his chest. He wondered if it hadn’t been clear that he was joking. Either way, it hadn’t had the impact he’d wanted. “Killua, I’m sorry. I don’t really think things out before doing them, and I know it causes problems for you.”

“Gon, you know,” Killua started, and his voice sounded stupid and hesitant to his own ears, “I don’t really care about that. It’s not a big deal.”

“But it is! Because, I just think about things in the moment so much. I do things that are rash and… one day I know you’re going to be really upset with me, Killua.” Killua licked his lips, his mouth feeling dry. He didn’t like the train of thought Gon was on. _He simply didn’t want to face_ _the truth_ , a voice in the back of his head scolded. The weight in his chest made breathing uncomfortable. Had he lied to Gon? Was it more significant than he pretended? “Sometimes I just get so caught up with things, but I think that’s wrong… But, I also don’t know how to change that.”

“Well… I guess, if a day like that comes, we’ll figure things out.” Despite his words, Killua could only stare down at his feet. He knew that things wouldn’t change. Gon wouldn’t change, and Killua knew he wouldn’t change either. It would continue the way things were – Gon would make a decision in the heat of the moment, and no matter how much it hurt Killua knew he would never hold it against Gon. That was fine. That was how it had always been. It was scary to think of what could happen if that changed. “Sometimes it sucks when you do stuff without taking time to figure it out, yeah. But, really. I can handle basically anything, you know.”

“I guess that’s true! Killua, thanks.”

“Don’t worry about it so much, seriously. It’s not like you to dwell on that sort of thing.” Killua rubbed his thumb against the side of his phone, furrowing his brow. If Gon made a mess, he’d clean it up. That was just how things were, and he could live with that as long as it meant having Gon by his side. Anything was fine, if he was keeping Gon safe. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready to leave?”

“Mmm…” Gon’s tone of voice clearly showed his reluctance. Killua was certain that Gon had been hoping he wouldn’t bring it up. It was stupid of him, because Gon had to know that his vocal distaste for the CCG wouldn’t keep him from nagging Gon about doing what he signed up for. He didn’t have to like it, Killua reminded himself. This was Gon’s one-track mind driving him towards his father, and that had nothing to do with him. It wasn’t as if he expected Gon to restructure his entire life and goals around his wants.

“Come on, you serious? You ticked me off by getting a job behind my back, and then you talk to me on the phone instead of going to it?”

He wished Gon hadn’t started working for the CCG.

“Yeah, I know… I just sort of didn’t want to get out of bed yet.”

That was a genuine surprise. Even on the weekends, Gon was always awake long before him. The idea of Gon lounging in bed while he ate breakfast was such a surreal reversal that Killua didn’t even realize how long he had been silent until Gon was, almost nervously, speaking again.

“I mean, obviously I’m going to go! It’s my job, so I’ll definitely be there. I guess I just sort of wanted a day to sleep in.”

“What, really? That’s not like you.”

“Hm… I think, lately I’ve just been sort of tired.”

“Stop lifting weights so much, then,” Killua muttered, and Gon’s laughter was reassuring. “Seriously… You’re gonna pull a muscle and then I’m gonna have to take care of you all day while you complain.”

“I won’t! But, Killua, how did you know I was even doing that?” The ease of that confirmation was a little astounding, even though it had been blatantly obvious. How else would Gon be packing on so much muscle? It had to have been a dedicated effort.

“Don’t be stupid. You look like you could lift me over your head, of course I knew. And you keep wearing short sleeves, it’s like you’re trying to show off your arms. I’m not gonna squeeze your biceps and gush, you can quit it.”

“Well, I’m not doing it to impress you, you know! I just… I don’t know. It makes me feel better about myself, I guess.”

“You don’t have to have huge muscles to be a man, you know.” It was out of his mouth before he knew it, and the sudden silence had Killua regretting his words immediately. Stupidly, even with no one to see it, his face heated. “Sorry, that was-”

“That’s not why I’m doing it either.” Gon’s tone was… wrong. Killua found himself gripping his phone too hard, and forced himself to relax his muscles. “That’s, I mean… It’s not like that doesn’t help me feel better about that sometimes. But that’s not… Killua, later, can I see you?”

“Yeah.” He was replying before he even realized what Gon was actually trying to say. It wasn’t a case where Gon’s words skipped over a thought in his mind, leaving him to try and piece together how Gon had gotten from one thought to the next. This was an explanation, just a particularly obtuse one. Killua wondered if Gon simply didn’t know how to put it into words, or if it was too hard for him to admit the truth.

“I want to see you” was much easier than “I’m afraid I won’t be able to protect you.”

"Yeah," Killua said again, quieter. "You can."

"... okay."


	54. Chapter 54

Sorry to everyone who got excited seeing a notification for this, it isn't a chapter. I want to start this off by saying, "I'm not discontinuing the story". I am, however, putting it on an official and indefinite hiatus. If you're following my other in-progress fic, you'll see this exact message popping up there.

I'm very tired.

I had a dream last night that I gave up on and took down all of my HxH fanfiction because of lackluster reader interaction making the effort not seem worth it. I’ve had this feeling more than once lately. I think it’s time to confront it now that it’s gotten into my dreams.

Maybe it's that I'm jealous, or that I've lost something I used to get an unnatural amount of. I see other people (both with HxH and other fandoms) getting the reader interaction that I've been desperate for, in droves, in what feels like seconds. It shot my self-esteem in the foot. I'm limping. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. I used to be eager and excited after posting a chapter. Now I'm only anxious, refreshing constantly, begging for something other than silence and scattered kudos that remain wildly disproportionate to my hit count.

And that's what it is. The juxtaposition of _hundreds_ of hits, much more than could be attributed to re-reads, and a handful of comments. I can only wonder what happened. I’ve heard from other people, “all of my friends love your work and talk about it all the time”. It’s happened five times now. It’s discouraging. You’d think it would make me feel good about myself. It just makes me wonder what’s wrong with me that people won’t say these things to my face. I don't get any joy from posting fic anymore. Just fried nerves and feelings of self-doubt and self-hatred.

I’m really sorry to the few people who’ve been commenting and/or just finding my content. I don’t know if it’s that I don’t feel approachable or something. I can't tell people "you have to talk to me, or I won't do this". I don't want to do it either. It feels like a threat, like coercing interaction people didn't really want to have with me. 

I’m not leaving the hxh fandom behind, I still love the series. I’m not discontinuing my stories, I still want to finish them.

The spark’s just gone. The motivation’s gone. I'll still be active on tumblr, of course. Twitter too, but I don't check it that often.

It just might be a long, long time before I come back to my stories.


End file.
